MILLIONAIRE 


EDWIN-BATEMAN-MORRIS 


V 

^B^^      ^3B^ 


WILL    YOU    GO    WITH    All-   f 


The 

MILLIONAIRE 


'By 
EDWIN  BATEMAN  MORRIS 

Author  of  "Blue  Anchor  Inn" 


Illustrated  by  Coles  Phillips  and 
Ralph  L.  Boyer 


THE     PENN     PUBLISHING 

COMPANY  PHILADELPHIA 

1913 


COPYRIGHT 
1913  BY 
THE  PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 


First  printing,  June,  1913 


The  Millionaire 


To  my  small  daughter 

whose  occasional  silences  made 

this   book  possible 


2^r)0i 

f^f^f**  ij* 


Illustrations 

PAGE 

"  WILL  You  Go  WITH  ME?"  .  .  Frontispiece 
"  ARE  You  PLAYING  AGAIN  ?"  ....  19 
FOR  ONCE  THEY  WERE  IN  ACCORD  .  .  .155 
"  IT  MAKES  ME  FEEL  So  YOUNG  "...  201 
«  I — HOPED  You  WOULD  COME  "  .  .  .  .  293 


The  Millionaire. 


The  Millionaire 


CHAPTER  I 

OLD  Hampton  Graham  never  felt  well   in  the 
morning.     He   maintained  a  fairly  consistent 
cynical  view   of  the  world  all  day  long,  but  in  the 
morning  he  was  thoroughly  irascible,  as  every  gen- 
tleman should  be. 

"Well,"  he  growled,  knitting  his  fine  bushy  eye- 
brows and  glancing  round  the  breakfast  table  as  if 
daring  contradiction,  "  now  that  we  have  our  dear 
eldest  daughter  happily  divorced,  I  suppose  we 
ought  to  praise  the  Lord  for  His  goodness." 

"  And  aren't  you  satisfied  ? "  asked  his  wife, 
mildly. 

"  Satisfied  ?  What  is  there  in  it  to  satisfy  anybody  ? 
A  decree  of  limited  divorce,  forbidding  her  to  marry 
again  in  New  York ;  and  a  whole  page  of  scandal 
aired  in  the  paper  every  morning  for  a  month.  Bah  ! 
Satisfied." 

9 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Mrs.  Graham  poured  a  cup  of  coffee  from  the 
handsome  coffee-pot,  now  worn  until  its  delicate 
chasings  were  almost  obliterated,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Now  what  has  she  ? "  pursued  her  husband. 
"  Money  enough  to  keep  her,  no  home,  no  position, 
no  chance  to  marry  again.  She  might  better  have 
taken  up  millinery  as  her  Cousin  Geraldine  did. 
Jeanette,"  he  broke  off,  irritably,  to  the  maid,  "  at 
least  let  me  have  one  of  the  rolls  before  removing 
them." 

"  I  was  getting  hot  ones,  sir." 

"  I  don't  like  hot  ones.  They  are  indigestible, 
unhealthy,  barbarous." 

Graham  took  up  the  newspaper  which  lay  beside 
his  chair  and,  spreading  it  out  on  the  table,  tilted 
his  nose  upward  so  as  to  obtain  a  view  of  the  print 
through  his  glasses. 

"  I  think  I  gave  myself  the  pleasure  of  remarking 
at  the  time  Elizabeth's  engagement  was  announced," 
he  observed,  after  he  had  glanced  at  the  head-lines, 
"  that  she  would  have  done  well  to  marry  more 
brains  and  less  money." 

"But,  father,"  broke  in  his  daughter  Madeleine, 
"  it  isn't  always  possible  for  a  girl  to  have  exactly 

what  she  wants  in  the  way  of  a  husband.     If  I  could 

10 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

have  had  a  combination  of  Apollo,  Demosthenes 
and  Croesus  simply  by  lying  awake  nights  thinking 
about  it,  I  should  have  been  married  by  now." 

"  No  doubt,"  grumbled  her  father,  "  no  doubt. 
My  dear,"  he  observed  to  his  wife,  "  the  rolls  are 
stone  cold." 

"  You  said  you  did  not  want  them  hot" 

"  But  the  happy  medium  ! "  he  exclaimed,  exasper- 
ated, "  the  happy  medium  !  Neither  cold  nor  hot. 
Can  you  not  imagine  rolls  in  such  a  state  ?  " 

Mrs.  Graham  smiled  dimly.  Her  husband  took 
off  his  eye-glasses  and  held  them  oracularly  by  the 
ring. 

"  The  trouble  with  society  to-day  is,"  he  said,  at- 
tacking the  subject  firmly,  "  there  are  too  many  sons 
of  rich  men  ;  too  many  idle,  purposeless  rakes,  roll- 
ing around  in  their  motor  cars,  drinking  at  their 
clubs  and  casually  marrying  and  divorcing  our  young 
women.  And  the  difficulty  is  that  these  are  all  the 
young  women  have  to  choose  from — unless  they 
wish  to  marry  their  chauffeurs." 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  have  been  saying,"  cried 
Madeleine. 

"Well,   well,   perhaps    you   have.     But  the   fact 

remains    that    the  whole  social  structure  is  crum- 

ii 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

bling — crumbling,  I  say,  and  all  for  the  lack  of  fellows 
with  some  aim  in  life — something  to  do  besides 
dancing  their  heads  off  all  night  long  when  they 
ought  to  be  sleeping,  and  sleeping  all  day  when  they 
ought  to  be  down-town  in  an  office.  I  maintain," 
he  continued,  "  that  every  young  man  inheriting  a 
million  dollars  or  more  should  be  compelled  by  law 
to  earn  his  living  for  one  year  before  he  comes  into 
possession  of  the  money  in  order  to  learn  the  value 
of  an  earned  dollar  and  the  importance  of  conserving 
wealth  instead  of  disbursing  it." 

Graham  felt  in  his  pocket  and  discovered  a  cigar, 
from  which  he  carefully  cut  the  end.  He  could  not 
personally  be  interested  in  whether  society  crumbled 
or  not,  for  the  fallen  fortunes  of  the  Grahams  made 
it  impossible  for  them  to  be  an  active  part  of  that 
structure.  The  daughters  went  everywhere,  because 
they  were  beautiful  and  therefore  indispensable.  But 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Graham  were  no  longer  of  importance 
or  value  to  the  fashionable  world.  It  entertained 
Graham,  however,  still  to  consider  himself  so  ;  to  be 
alarmed  at  the  worms  that  flourished  in  the  bud  ;  to 
grow  excited  over  the  invasion  of  tailors,  antique 
furniture  dealers  and  other  merchants  into  the  streets 
once  sacred  to  the  first  families  of  the  city,  and  to 

12 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

deplore  the  admission  of  certain  new  people,  just  as 
he  had  years  ago  when  his  social  orbit  revolved 
nearer  the  sun. 

"  The  idea  might  be  a  practical  one,"  he  went  on, 
"  if  it  could  be  tried.  As  an  example,  take  any  one 
of  the  very  rich  young  men  who  are  starting  out  on 
their  spending  careers — take  this  young  Morgan 
Holt,  for  instance.  Thirty  millions  to  fling  around 
as  he  sees  fit.  Think  of  it !  Do  you  suppose  he 
would  not  be  made  a  more  fit  and  respectable  citizen 
if  he  had  to  spend  at  least  a  part  of  his  life  in  learn- 
ing that  a  dollar  comes  hard  when  you  are  earning 
it  unassisted?  And  don't  you  know  that  in  five 
years  he  will  have  had  to  try  every  form  of  amuse- 
ment there  is  to  kill  the  time  on  his  hands  ?  Morgan 
Holt  is  a  shining  example  of  the  rich  man's  son  who 
knows  nothing  of  the  struggles  of  the  world,  and 
who  is  utterly  unfitted,  by  his  inexperience,  for  busi- 
ness, or  politics,  or  a  profession." 

It  is  doubtful  if  Graham  believed  very  much  that 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  saying  when  he  found  himself 
on  a  congenial  subject.  All  he  needed  was  a  new 
train  of  thought  which  he  could  dress  up  plausibly 
and  talk  on  indefinitely,  mainly  for  the  pleasure  of 
hearing  his  own  flow  of  words.  But  on  this  occasion 

13 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

his  daughter  had  been  absorbed  in  his  conversation 
— more  especially  since  Morgan  Holt's  name  had 
been  mentioned.  Quite  contrary  to  her  usual  cus- 
tom, she  had  listened  with  grave  attention ;  her  full 
red  lips  slightly  parted,  showing  her  white  even  teeth, 
her  round  chin  resting  on  her  hand,  and  her  bright, 
gray  eyes  lifting  now  and  then,  with  much  serious- 
ness, to  her  father's  face. 

Graham  folded  up  his  paper,  pushed  back  his 
chair,  and  rose  heavily  from  the  table. 

"What  kind  of  a  man  would  Morgan  Holt  be," he 
concluded,  waving  his  cigar  in  the  air,  "  as  the  hus- 
band of  a  woman  of  brains — as  the  husband  of  Made- 
leine here,  for  instance  ?  " 

His  wife  laughed  softly. 

"  Better  be  careful,  Hampton,"  she  said  ;  "  the 
papers  this  morning  say  that's  exactly  what  he  is  go- 
ing to  be." 

Her  husband  threw  his  cigar  in  the  grate. 

"  H'mph,"  he  snorted,  by  way  of  comment,  and 
turned  on  his  heel. 

At  the  door  he  stopped  and  faced  part  way  round. 

"  Well,"  he  grumbled,  "  is  it  so,  Madeleine  ?  " 

"  Too  soon  to  guess,"  she  returned,  non-commit- 
tally. 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  tried  to  cover  his  satisfaction  with  an  appear- 
ance of  irritability. 

"Particular  cases,  of  course,"  he  growled,  "are 
exceptions  to  the  rule." 

But  Madeleine  was  very  thoughtful. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  lithe,  spare  young  gentleman  standing  at 
the  service  line  was  Morgan  Holt,  himself.  He 
was  not  the  most  spectacular  tennis  player  in  that 
tournament  at  all.  The  only  way  to  account  for  the 
huge  gallery  that  crowded  the  side-lines  was  that  he 
was  Morgan  Holt,  and  Morgan  Holt  was  the  name 
of  the  young  man  who  had  just  inherited  thirty 
millions,  when  his  father  two  months  before  had  un- 
expectedly released  his  grip  on  the  world  and  de- 
parted this  life.  The  slight  young  man  was  the 
head  of  his  house.  He  had  all  that  this  world  could 
provide — money,  position,  power,  good  looks  and 
the  mothers  of  a  hundred  good-looking  girls  at  his 
feet. 

There  were  the  mothers,  occupying  space  beside 
the  court.  With  them  were  many  daughters,  re- 
splendent in  beautiful,  expensive,  hand-made,  hand- 
embroidered,  hand-fastened  clothes,  which  made  the 
side-lines  glitter  with  all  the  colors  of  a  bed  of  nas- 
turtiums. But  if  there  were  a  hundred  maidens 

there,  ninety-and-nine  of  them,  questioned  intimately, 

16 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

would  have  had  to  admit  that  they  could  lay  no 
claim  to  the  slightest  shred  of  proprietorship  over 
the  young  man  on  the  tennis  court,  whom  their 
mothers  watched.  The  hundredth,  who  had  just 
joined  the  throng,  sat  in  the  background  in  her  ten- 
nis clothes  and  talked,  with  splendid  unconcern,  to  a 
cluster  of  young  men  who  had  second-hand  ideas  to 
exchange.  Her  name  was  Madeleine  Graham. 

An  occasion  of  this  sort  always  found  things  ar- 
ranged in  this  manner  : — a  score  of  girls,  attracting 
spasmodic  attention  from  men  who  flitted  about  from 
flower  to  flower,  sitting  together  ready  at  an  in- 
stant's notice  to  be  vivacious  and  fascinating ;  Made- 
leine, cool  and  unruffled,  lounging  at  a  convenient 
spot  somewhat  removed  from  the  others,  surrounded 
by  the  best  and  most  desirable  of  all  the  youth  and 
chivalry.  The  world  belonged  to  her.  She  could 
have  what  she  wanted.  And  in  those  calm,  thought- 
ful eyes,  now  sparkling  with  enthusiasm,  now  half- 
closed  and  self-possessed,  it  was  apparent  that  she 
would  probably  make  no  mistake  in  getting  what 
she  wanted.  Some  one  had  once  figured  that  the 
group  about  her  represented  quite  a  hundred  millions 
of  dollars — the  group  consisting  of  six  young  men. 
And  any  one  of  the  six  she  could  have  married  when 

17 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

she  chose.  Large  reason  for  her  to  be  self-possessed 
and  to  bide  her  time,  and  large  reason  for  the  mothers 
and  their  eligible  daughters  to  take  every  precaution  ! 

The  man  who  was  fortunate  enough  to  be  the 
chief  attraction  of  this  crowd  paused  at  the  back 
line  before  he  served.  He  was  exceedingly  calm. 
The  crowd,  the  mothers,  the  daughters,  the  hand- 
embroidered  frocks,  meant  nothing  to  him  at  that 
moment.  He  desired  to  beat  the  man  opposite  him. 
The  sets  stood  one  and  one.  In  this  final  set,  Holt 
had  won  five  games  to  his  opponent's  four.  The 
tenth  game  had  gone  to  deuce  many  times.  The 
young  man,  who  was  tiring,  was  anxious  to  end  it 
and  win  immediately.  It  was  his  advantage  and 
this  point,  if  he  made  it,  meant  victory. 

He  rose  on  his  toes,  and  shot  his  hard  fast  service 
at  the  inner  corner  of  the  court.  The  man  across 
the  net  made  no  effort  to  get  it. 

"  Fault,"  commented  the  referee,  from  his  step- 
ladder. 

The  other  man  moved  up  nearer  the  net.  Young 
Holt  decided  to  take  a  chance.  He  did  not  play 
safe,  as  his  opponent  had  expected.  There  was 
about  one  chance  in  five  of  his  placing  his  hard 

serve    in    the    court.     However,   he    tried   it.     His 

18 


ARE   YOU    PLAYING    AGAIN  ?' 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

racket  sang,  the  ball  shot  across  the  net,  struck  in 
a  flurry  of  lime  on  the  back-line  of  the  receiving 
court  and  bounded  untouched  to  the  back  nets. 
An  outburst  of  hand-clapping  arose,  the  referee 
descended  from  his  high  place,  and  Holt's  oppo- 
nent, glancing  a  little  bewildered  at  the  spot  where 
the  ball  struck,  smiled  and  advanced  to  the  net  to 
clasp  the  victor's  hand. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  young  man  had  worked 
his  way  to  the  less  thickly  populated  edges  of  the 
mother  and  daughter  zone.  Flushed  and  excited  at 
his  victory,  he  enjoyed  his  triumph  in  frank  enthu- 
siasm. The  hundredth  girl  looked  at  him  with  a 
half  smile. 

Presently  he  went  over  to  the  place  where  she  was 
sitting. 

'  Are  you  playing  again  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No." 

"  Let's  take  a  stroll  after  we  have  changed." 

"  Meet  me  here,"  she  said,  "  in  fifteen  minutes." 

He  departed  amid  a  crowd  of  conversing  people. 
Twenty  invitations  to  tea  on  the  terrace,  to  bridge, 
to  a  plunge  in  the  pool,  to  a  ride  in  a  new  car  were 
at  his  elbow.  The  girl  did  not  look  after  him. 
Neither  did  she  leave  immediately  to  change  her 

19 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

clothes.  Because,  behind  the  vines  of  the  pergola 
where  she  sat,  two  men,  sauntering  along  with  their 
golf  clubs,  paused  to  look  after  Morgan  Holt  and  his 
friends. 

"  There,"  observed  one  of  them,  with  crisp  pessi- 
mism, "  goes  the  embryo  Gilded  Youth — the  abso- 
lutely raw  product.  You  see  him  now — a  natural, 
average  young  man.  Inside  the  door  there  some 
one  will  buy  him  a  Scotch  highball.  He  will  drink 
it  because  he  is  never  to  be  denied  anything  he  wants 
— food,  drink,  wives — anything  money  can  buy." 

"  Why,"  said  the  other  man  incredulously,  "  he  is 
nothing  but  the  average  rich  man's  son." 

"  Of  course.  The  natural  result  of  his  surround- 
ings. The  non-producer.  Having  everything,  he 
is  taught  there  is  nothing  to  strive  for.  And,  when 
he  gets  to  believe  that  absolutely,  he  will  be  wholly 
unable  to  achieve  anything.  He  is  a  man  now. 
He  will  presently  be  simply  a  spoiled  child,  trying 
in  vain  to  find  something  he  wants  that  he  does  not 
possess  already." 

"  Spoiled  child,"  observed  the  other  indifferently. 
"  He's  that  already.  Born  that  way.  Coddled  all 
his  life,  kept  at  home,  never  allowed  to  see  other 

children,  treated   like   a   piece   of  rare   china.    His 

20 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

brain  must  be  mush.  Be  an  excellent  thing  if  he 
did  take  a  good  stiff  drink  and  brace  up.  He's 
nothing  now  but  a  mild,  ineffectual,  girlish  child 
and  doubtless  always  will  be.  So  much  for  his 
ridiculous  bringing-up." 

His  companion  picked  up  his  golf-sticks. 

"  I  know  that's  what  they  all  say,  but  still " 

"  Oh,  cut  out  your  moralizing.  What  difference 
does  it  make  ?  The  girl  that  marries  him  will  marry 
him  for  his  money ;  and  he  can  be  as  pale  and 
colorless  as  he  pleases  and  she  will  not  care  a  rap. 
Come  on.  Let's  get  our  bath." 

They  passed  out  of  hearing  and  trudged  up  the 
path  to  the  club-house.  After  they  left,  the  girl  sat 
for  a  long  while  in  silence.  Her  possible  marriage 
with  Morgan  Holt  she  had  considered  with  more 
than  usual  seriousness — she  hardly  knew  why. 
There  was  not  much  more  money  there  than  in 
several  other  possible  quarters.  Morgan  was  too 
quiet  and  too  simple-minded  to  shine  among  her 
class  of  people.  Her  better  judgment  told  her  that 
she  did  not  want  him,  but  something  within  her 
made  her  think  of  him  very  often. 

That  something  within  her  was  a  primitive  some- 
thing. And  Madeleine  was  not  at  all  a  primitive 

21 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

being.  She  was  a  product  of  an  aristocratic  class, 
and  the  mating  instinct  in  her  was  not  headlong. 
It  was  tempered  and  deliberate.  Her  family  for 
several  generations  back  had  married  with  discre- 
tion and  judgment.  They  had  taken  their  husbands 
in  the  calm  of  the  morning,  and  with  due  regard  to 
what  the  world  would  think  of  their  choice.  It  was 
therefore  not  to  be  expected  that  Madeleine  would 
greatly  heed  a  primitive  emotion. 

She  had  no  intention  of  marrying  a  man  who 
could  be  spoken  of  slightingly  by  her  friends.  Pride 
was  one  of  her  inheritances.  She  wished  to  marry  a 
strong,  large-natured  man  who  would  impress  the 
world  with  his  force — but  he  must  have  money. 
That  was  part  of  her  instinct  and  training,  and  cor- 
responded to  thrift  in  the  woman  of  a  lower  station 
in  life.  It  could  not  be  called  selfishness.  You  could 
not  judge  her  by  the  same  code  as  the  girl  who 
works  for  her  living.  When  she  held  her  instincts 
in  hand,  calmly  choosing  her  husband  with  regard 
to  his  fitness  to  further  her  chief  object — which  was 
undoubtedly  the  advancement  of  her  social  position 
— she  was  doing  a  very  proper  thing.  And  as  her 
social  supremacy  hung  now  by  a  slender  thread,  she 

could  afford  to  marry  neither  a  quiet,  retiring,  inef- 

22 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

fectual  man  nor  yet  a  wild,  dissipated  one.  She  must 
have  a  strong  companion  who  could  help  her  to 
carve  out  a  ledge  on  the  face  of  the  rock  for  them  to 
stand  on. 

She  rose  presently  and  went  back  to  the  club- 
house. She  was  rather  late  in  keeping  her  appoint- 
ment with  young  Holt.  Smiles  of  understanding 
were  exchanged  by  people  who  saw  them  as  they 
strolled  across  the  golf  links  toward  the  path  through 
the  gaudy  autumn  woods.  She  was  silent  for  a 
time.  She  thought  she  knew  what  they  would  talk 
about  that  afternoon.  There  had  been  a  hint  of  it 
when  she  had  seen  him  the  night  before. 

Morgan  Holt  was  not  the  sort  of  person  for  her  at 
that  time.  If  he  developed  in  the  next  year  or  two 
he  might  be.  But  just  now  he  was  too  quiet,  too  in- 
different to  the  importance  of  social  activities,  too 
unsophisticated  in  the  finesse  of  the  people  of  his 
class.  He  did  not  shine  among  them  ;  in  fact,  they 
more  frequently  bored  him.  His  life  had  been  spent 
practically  in  the  society  of  his  father  alone.  His 
mother  had  died  when  he  was  born,  and  his  father 
had  almost  literally  never  let  him  out  of  his  sight. 
This  companionship  had  made  the  boy  gentle  and 
attractive,  but  it  had  also  made  him  hopelessly  un- 

23 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

fitted  to  join  in  the  swirling  action  of  the  people  about 
him,  and  it  had  not  fitted  him  to  be  Madeleine's  hus- 
band. 

She  thrust  her  hands  into  the  pockets  of  her  scarlet 
coat. 

"  I  notice  by  the  papers  this  morning,"  she  ob- 
served, lightly,  "  that  you  have  denied  your  engage- 
ment to  me." 

He  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  I  wish  there  were  some  way  to  protect  us,"  he 
said,  "  from  this  newspaper  notoriety.  Why  should 
your  own  personal  affairs — or  mine — be  discussed 
freely  in  the  papers?" 

She  lifted  her  shoulders  in  a  delicate  shrug. 

"  The  penalty,"  she  observed,  "  you  pay  for  being 
rich." 

"  A  fellow  pays  a  great  many  penalties,  I  think, 
for  being  rich." 

She  smiled  at  him. 

"  Don't  be  gloomy  about  it.  It's  glorious  to  be 
rich.  We  are  all  of  us — if  given  a  chance — willing 
to  put  up  with  its  drawbacks." 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said,  quickly,  "  you  belong  to  the 
class  of  people  who  maintain  no  drawbacks  exist — 

worth  speaking  of." 

24 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  There  are  drawbacks  to  everything,  my  dear  boy. 
Think  of  the  disadvantages  of  being  poor.  One 
might  say,  the  tragedy  of  being  poor,"  she  added. 

He  walked  on  for  a  way  in  silence. 

"  But  what  of  the  fruitlessness  of  a  rich  man's 
life?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  frank  stare. 

"  Having  just  come  into  your  wealth,"  she  ob- 
served, indulgently,  "you  have  in  mind  a  certain 
quotation  about  the  camel  and  the  eye  of  a  needle." 

He  laughed. 

"  No,"  he  returned,  "  my  philosophy  hadn't  got  so 
far.  But  sometimes  I  do  think  about  the  fellows  in 
the  Bible  who  were  given  the  talents  for  the  purpose 
of  gathering  other  talents.  I  am  afraid  I  am  going 
to  be  the  man  who  buried  his  in  the  ground." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  she  asked,  thoughtfully,  "  that 
you  are  " — she  hesitated  over  the  plagiarism — "  a 
non-producer  ?  " 

She  was  thinking  of  the  conversation  she  had  over- 
heard by  the  tennis  courts. 

"  That  is  a  good  word  for  it,"  he  said.  "  I  am  to 
spend  my  life  playing  golf  and  tennis,  going  abroad, 
hunting,  sailing — in  fact,  killing  time.  I  am  cast  as 
an  idler." 

25 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

She  looked  at  him  keenly.  She  was  vivacious, 
enthusiastic,  sparkling,  but  in  her  eyes  dwelt  always 
a  look  of  easy  thoughtfulness,  indicating  a  cool, 
prosaic  grasp  of  the  situation  at  hand.  Had  old 
Hampton  Graham  possessed  his  daughter's  insight, 
he  might  have  found  himself  at  that  moment  reck- 
oned among  the  captains  of  finance. 

"You  must  be  ambitious,  Morgan,"  she  said, 
slowly. 

"  What  is  there  to  be  ambitious  about  ?  I  am  not 
a  painter,  nor  a  scholar,  nor  a  writer.  I  can't  rise  to 
fame  that  way.  I  am  not  even  a  first-class  tennis 
player." 

She  nodded. 

"  I  have  thought  of  this  thing,"  he  went  on.  "  I 
have  sometimes  felt  as  if  there  should  be  some  goal 
before  me.  But  what  is  it  ?  " 

She  had  no  answer  to  that. 

"  For  instance,"  he  went  on,  "  suppose  I  should  go 
into  politics.  What  chance  would  there  be  for  me  ? 
I  have  nothing  but  money.  I  could  only  buy  my 
way." 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

"Or  suppose  I  should  go  into  big  business.     It 

would  be  too  big  for  me  ;  and  I  should  in  all  proba- 

26 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

bility  lose  all  I  already  have.  I  haven't  been  trained 
for  it.  I  don't  know  enough  of  the  world." 

"  Exactly,"  she  assented. 

"  But  other  fellows  in  my  position,"  he  said,  de- 
fensively, "  do  none  of  those  things." 

She  thought  of  what  her  father  had  said  in  the 
morning.  It  was  seldom  that  she  allowed  her  father's 
conversation  to  stick  in  her  mind,  but  his  talk  had 
struck  a  responsive  chord  in  her. 

"  You  say  you  do  not  know  enough  of  the  world," 
she  said,  with  a  certain  businesslike  directness. 
"Why  don't  you  get  busy  and  get  that  knowledge?" 

"How?" 

"  Any  old  way — that's  feasible." 

"  But  knowledge  of  the  world  !  You  can't  go  out 
and  buy  it.  You've  got  to  live  to  get  it." 

"  And  you  can't  get  it  living  as  you  do,"  she  pur- 
sued. 

"  Exactly.  I  am  protected  by  my  money.  I  do  not 
get  rubbed  up  against." 

She  thought  again  of  her  father's  idea. 

"  Why  don't  you,"  she  said,  slowly — "  why  don't 
you  live  for  a  while  as  if  you  didn't  have  the 
money  ?  " 

He  stared  at  this. 

27 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Live  right  among  people.  Learn  about  them," 
she  explained,  eyeing  him  speculatively. 

He  hesitated. 

"  I'm  willing,"  he  said,  a  little  bewildered,  "  but  I 
don't  quite  understand." 

Her  eyes  lit  up  as  she  saw  the  notion  begin  to  take 
hold  in  him. 

"This  is  the  idea,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Go  away  for 
a  year,  taking  only  a  certain  amount  of  money — two 
hundred  dollars,  perhaps — and  see  if  you  can  sup- 
port yourself  unassisted." 

She  paused,  breathing  quickly.  The  thing  was 
done.  She  believed  he  would  do  it,  and  felt,  in  con- 
sequence, as  if  she  had  touched  a  match  to  a  train  of 
powder.  It  is  a  delicate  thing,  this  tampering  with 
the  balance  spring  of  some  one  else's  life.  But  the 
feeling  within  her,  the  primitive  desire  for  possession, 
was  strong  that  day.  If  this  man  could  make 
of  himself  what  her  mind  desired,  all  the  rest  of  her 
wanted  him.  She  was  willing  to  sit  by  and  wait. 

He  did  not  answer  her  immediately,  but  looked  at 
her  intently.  And  part  of  his  thought  was  of  this 
new  idea  and  part  of  it  of  the  person  who  had  pro- 
posed it.  She  met  his  eyes  with  a  calm,  frank  gaze. 

He  stepped  up  close  to  her. 

28 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  I'll  do  it,"  he  cried,  impulsively.  "  I'll  start  to- 
morrow." 

He  was  willing  to  stake  everything  on  one  cast 
of  the  die — just  as  he  had  upon  his  one  stroke  on 
the  tennis  court — if  it  seemed  that  in  that  was  a 
chance  of  victory.  He  knew  that  otherwise  there 
was  no  chance. 

She  smiled  an  adorable  smile,  such  as  Venus,  con- 
scious of  her  power,  might  have  smiled  on  her 
Olympian  throne.  He  caught  both  her  hands  in  his. 

"  And  if  I  do  this,"  he  cried,  eagerly,  "  if  I  spend 
this  year  learning  the  world,  and  come  back  here,  as 
you  say,  better  fitted  to  play  the  game  and  leave 
my  " — he  hesitated — "  leave  my  footsteps  on  the 
sands  of  time,  what  then  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  his  question  immediately. 

"You  must  understand,"  she  said,  evidently  going 
back  to  an  idea  that  she  had  been  turning  over, 
"  that  I  do  not  consider  this  test  in  itself  worth  any- 
thing. You  could  support  yourself  under  those  con- 
ditions for  a  year,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  be  no 
better  off,  or  at  the  end  of  that  time  be  in  trim  to  be 
one  of  the  big  men  of  the  age.  It  all  depends  on  you." 

There  was  no  enthusiasm  about  her,  but  her  head- 
long common  sense  appealed  to  him. 

29 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Madeleine,"  he  whispered,  still  holding  her 
hands,  which  she  had  made  no  effort  to  withdraw, 
"  I  am  going  to  do  all  that  is  in  me  to  be  a  big  man 
of  the  age.  And  when  I  come  back  if  I  seem  to  have 
succeeded,  will  you  " — he  paused  and  looked  search- 
ingly  into  her  eyes — "  will  you  marry  me  ?  " 

She  spread  open  the  hands  lying  in  his. 

"  Here  I  am,"  she  said,  quietly. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  catch  her  in  his  arms. 
Then  a  queer,  old-fashioned  sense  of — he  would  have 
called  it  decency — prevented  him.  He  had  not  yet 
earned  her.  Instead,  therefore,  he  leaned  down  and 
kissed  both  her  hands. 

She  smiled  at  him  pleasantly,  studying  his  fine, 
frank  young  face.  He  let  go  her  hands  and  stepped 
through  the  rustling  leaves  to  the  path.  No  one 
could  have  resisted  him.  She  tossed  an  acorn  at 
him.  The  primitive  feeling  was  strong. 

"  If  you  are  going  to  kiss  me  good-bye,"  she  said, 
"  you  had  best  do  it  before  we  get  out  on  the  golf 
links." 


CHAPTER  III 

MORGAN  HOLT'S  machine  drew  up  by  the 
curb  in  front  of  the  house  that  was  now  his 
own.  The  footman,  alighting  before  the  car  stopped, 
touched  the  bell  at  the  door,  and  by  the  time  the 
young  man  was  out  of  the  car,  it  was  open.  The 
man  who  opened  the  door  took  his  hat  and  coat  and 
gloves. 

"  Mr.  Cogshell  called  you  on  the  telephone,  sir," 
he  said. 

Holt  nodded. 

"  I  wish  you  would  have  Bronson  call  him  up  and 
ask  him  to  dine  with  me  to-night." 

He  stepped  into  the  push-button  elevator,  and 
went  up  to  the  third  floor.  He  glanced  at  his  letters 
as  he  went  through  his  study  and  picked  up  a  couple 
of  notes.  In  his  dressing  room  he  found  his  evening 
clothes  and  his  dinner  suit  laid  out  for  him,  and 
heard  the  water  running  for  his  bath  in  the  room  be- 
yond. In  a  very  short  while  he  was  disrobed  and  in 
the  warm  bath-room.  It  was  a  fine,  comfortable 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

place,  floored  and  wainscoted  with  red  quarry  tile, 
with  buff  porcelain  fixtures,  and  the  bath  tub  sunk 
below  the  level  of  the  floor.  He  splashed  about  in 
the  water  like  the  healthy  young  animal  he  was. 
When  he  emerged  the  things  he  had  taken  off  had 
been  put  away.  With  a  skilful  hand  and  noiseless 
tread  his  man  assisted  him  into  his  clothes, — his  silk 
stockings,  his  immaculate  calfskin  pumps,  so  care- 
fully taken  care  of  between  wearings  that  they  fitted 
his  feet  without  a  crease ;  his  gray  silk  vest ;  his  per- 
fectly pressed  dinner  coat ;  and  the  white  gardenia  to 
put  in  his  lapel.  He  was  indeed  a  very  refulgent  be- 
ing then,  and  could  Madeleine  have  seen  him  she 
might  have  repented  her  decision  to  send  him  away 
for  so  long. 

He  went  down  the  wide  marble  stairway.  Its 
walls  of  smooth  white  Botticino  marble  were  adorned 
with  delicate  pilasters.  The  lights  were  all  concealed 
behind  the  cornice,  and  shed  a  gentle  glow  over  the 
hall.  He  went  into  the  library  where  a  fire  of  logs 
was  burning  in  the  great  fireplace,  and,  dropping 
into  the  leather  chair  drawn  up  before  it,  took  the 
newspaper  that  lay  on  the  table  at  his  elbow. 

After  about  five  minutes,  just  as  the  clock  in  the 
hall  was  striking  the  hour,  a  short,  gray-haired  gen- 

32 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

tleman,  whose  full  beard  was  neatly  parted  in  the 
middle  and  brushed  briskly  to  the  sides,  entered  the 
room. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Cogshell  ?  "  said  Morgan. 

"  I'm  well.  Glad  to  have  the  old  family  lawyer's 
privilege  of  dining  here  now  and  then." 

He  spread  his  hands  out  before  the  blaze. 

"Anything  the  matter?"  he  demanded  presently. 

"  Plenty,"  said  Morgan. 

"  Let's  have  it." 

The  butler  entered  to  say  that  dinner  was  served. 

"  After  we've  had  our  dinner  I'll  let  you  have  the 
whole  story." 

Morgan  led  the  way  into  the  small  dining-room, 
an  exquisite  little  room  done  in  that  phase  of  Geor- 
gian architecture  which  is  known  as  the  Adam  style. 
The  slightly  curved  ceiling  was  ornamented  with  a 
riot  of  delicate  moulded  plaster  scrolls,  little  cupids 
growing  out  of  acanthus  leaves,  and  all  such  natural 
phenomena, — all  modeled  in  dainty,  graceful  lines. 
The  wood  wainscot  had  all  the  pleasant  daintiness 
of  a  silversmith's  carving.  The  Italian  walnut  furni- 
ture was  designed  after  furniture  of  the  same  period, 
as  was  the  hardware  on  the  doors  and  the  silver  on 
the  table. 

33 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"This  is  the  most  attractive  room  in  New  York," 
observed  Cogshell,  at  last. 

"  I  think  so,"  responded  Morgan.  "  However," 
he  added,  after  a  pause,  "  to-morrow  I  am  leaving  it." 

"  For  how  long?"  asked  the  lawyer. 

"  I  expect  to  be  gone  about  a  year." 

"Bless  my  soul!"  cried  the  other.  "And  where 
are  you  going?  " 

"  Don't  know  exactly.  South  somewhere.  There 
is  a  better  chance  there,  I  think." 

Cogshell  knitted  his  brows.  He  eyed  the  other 
keenly. 

"  Chance  ?  "  he  said.  "  Chance?  May  I  ask  what 
meaning  you  ascribe  to  that  term  ?  " 

"  In  this  instance,"  observed  Morgan  slowly,  "  I 
mean  chance  to  earn  one's  living — to  accumulate 
money  to  support  one's  self." 

The  other  struck  a  match  on  the  side  of  the  box 
and  held  the  flame  to  the  end  of  his  short  cigar. 

"  Will  you  say  that  again  ?  "  he  observed  at  length. 
"  Say  it  slowly." 

"  In  short,"  continued  the  young  man,  "  I  mean  to 
let  all  my  father's  money  be  untouched  for  a  year. 
During  that  time  I  am  going  to  endeavor  to  support 
myself  by  my  own  efforts." 

34 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Work  for  a  living,  in  other  words." 

"  You  have  the  idea." 

The  lawyer  leaned  forward  with  both  elbows  on 
the  table. 

"  As  a  conversationalist,  Morgan,  my  boy,"  he  ob- 
served, "  you  are  almost  unbeatable." 

Morgan  laughed. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  all  about  it,"  he  said.  "  The 
facts  are  these.  This  afternoon  I  asked  Madeleine 
Graham  to  marry  me.  She  said  no.  She  said  that 
I  was  a  very  inconsequential  person  who  had  never 
accomplished  anything  in  the  past,  and  in  the  future 
proposed  to  do  nothing  but  try  to  spend  as  much  as 
possible  of  my  father's  money.  She  doesn't  want  to 
marry  a  man  like  that.  She  wants  a  man  who  is  doing 
things — somebody  with  a  punch,  you  understand." 

Cogshell  knocked  the  ash  off  his  cigar. 

"  Madeleine  Graham  wants  these  things,  you  say." 

"Yes.     Why?"  he  added. 

Cogshell  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Nothing  at 
all." 

"  Now  I'm  not  at  all  that  kind  of  person,  as  you 
know.  When  I  was  born  my  father  was  so  frantic 
for  fear  I  would  not  live  that  he  spent  thousands  of 
dollars  for  doctors  to  be  with  me  every  instant. 

35 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

When  I  was  a  child  he  could  not  get  the  idea  out  of 
his  head  that  some  one  might  attempt  to  run  off 
with  me.  There  were  three  nurses  to  care  for  me. 
They  took  turn  about,  and  I  was  never  out  of  sight 
of  one  of  them.  As  an  additional  security  a  plain 
clothes  detective  was  always  watching  me — and  the 
nurses.  When  I  grew  older  two  men  tutors  sup- 
planted the  nurses.  At  night  the  door  between  my 
room  and  that  of  the  tutor  who  was  on  duty  was 
never  closed,  and  a  detective  sat  in  a  chair  in  the 
hall  outside.  I  was  watched  like  a  prisoner  in  the 
Bastile.  What  chance  had  I  to  learn  the  ways  of 
the  world,  and  fit  myself  to  be  useful  and  earn  my 
own  way?" 

"  It  isn't  necessary  for  you  to  do  those  things." 

"It's  necessary  for  me  to  have  some  result  to 
show  for  my  life ;  and  when  Madeleine  said  she 
would  marry  me  if  I  could  support  myself  unaided 
for  a  year  I  said  I'd  make  the  try.  And  I'm  glad  I 
did.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  have  something 
to  work  for." 

The  lawyer  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  If  you  stay  in  New  York  for  the  year,  I  think 
there  will  be  developments  enough  to  give  you 
something  to  work  for,"  he  said  at  length.  "My 

36 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

advice  to  you  is  to  step  out  to  that  telephone  there 
and  tell  Miss  Madeleine  Graham  that  little  old  New 
York  is  quite  large  enough  field  for  the  exercise  of 
your  talents,  and  that  you  have  no  intention  of  leav- 
ing just  now." 

Morgan  smiled. 

"  I  certainly  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  of  course  you  are  your  own  master.  How- 
ever, I  must  ask  you  to  keep  me  informed  continually 
of  your  whereabouts  so  that  I  can  get  you  on  short 
notice." 

"What  will  you  want  me  for?  You  are  the  ex- 
ecutor. You  have  the  power  to  do  what  you  wish 
with  the  estate." 

"  Well,  a  certain  little  matter  of  importance  may 
come  to  a  head  any  time  now." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  There  is  no  use  boring  you  with  it  now.  Wait 
until  it  comes  along.  Tell  me  what  your  plans  are." 

"They  are  brief.  To-morrow  night  I  board  the 
boat  at  Baltimore  bound  for  Norfolk.  Beyond  that 
I  don't  know." 

"Why  Norfolk?" 

"  Perhaps  to  go  further  south.  My  father  and  I 
four  years  ago  spent  several  months  in  that  part  of 

37 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Virginia  and  North  Carolina ;  and  he  used  to  say  if 
Horace  Greeley  had  been  alive  now  he  would  have 
said,  'Young  man,  go  south.'  I  base  my  bet  on 
that." 

Mr.  Cogshell  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

"  '  Oh,  woman  in  her  hours  of  ease,'  "  he  quoted, 
irrelevantly,  "  '  uncertain,  coy  and  hard  to  please.' ': 

"All  of  those  things,"  agreed  Morgan. 

"Well,"  said  the  other  presently,  "I  wish  you 
luck.  Only  keep  me  informed  of  your  address,  and," 
he  added  with  an  effort  at  unconcern,  "  leave  your 
Bertillon  measurements  behind  you." 

"  What  would  that  be  for  ?  " 

"  So  we  could  recognize  you  in  case  of  accident," 
he  returned,  laughing.  "  Oh,  by  the  way,  speaking 
of  Bertillon  measurements,"  he  added,  with  a  studied 
carelessness,  "  have  you  a  mole  immediately  be- 
tween your  two  shoulder  blades  ?  " 

The  boy  looked  at  him  keenly. 

"Why  do  you  ask?" 

"  I  can  tell  you  in  the  course  of  a  month,  perhaps." 

"  Is  it  part  of  the  matter  you  were  speaking  of  ?  " 

"  It  is  indeed." 

The  young  man  laughed. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  when  you  tell  me." 

38 


CHAPTER  IV 

Norfolk  boat  lay  at  the  Baltimore  dock.  An 
endless  stream  of  two- wheeled  trucks  rolled  up 
her  forward  gangplank  loading  her  with  a  hundred 
tons  of  freight.  A  desultory  and  broken  line  of 
passengers  climbed  the  after  plank.  The  red  Oc- 
tober sun  shone  across  her  upper  decks  where  the 
passengers  crowded  before  the  wheel-house.  The 
men  attired  in  check-caps  and  cigars  and  discussing 
the  shipping  around  them  with  the  able-seaman  air 
a  landsman  on  shipboard  readily  assumes.  The 
exhaust  puffed  and  sang  and  sprayed  a  fine  drizzle 
over  every  one  on  deck.  Presently  the  bo's'n  blew 
his  shrill  whistle.  The  deep-throated  siren  aloft 
barked  three  times  in  token  of  intention  to  depart. 
The  steward  going  through  the  saloon  cried,  "  All 
asho'  that's  goin'  asho'."  Up  came  the  gangplanks. 
Bow-line,  spring-line  and  stern-line  were  cast  loose, 
and  the  boat  warped  slowly  away  from  the  dock. 

A  state  of  comfortable  calm  reigned  aboard,  every 
one  looking  forward  with  pleasant  anticipation  to 

39 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

the  journey  before  him.  A  man  in  a  mouse-colored 
plush  hat  and  a  striking  pink  vest  stepped  up 
to  the  purser's  office. 

"  Is  a  gentleman  named  Morgan  Holt  on  the 
list  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  rather  low  tone. 

The  purser  ran  his  finger  down  the  book. 

"  He  is.     Stateroom  number  twelve,  sir." 

"  Much  obliged." 

The  gray  plush  hat  turned  and  walked  away.  In 
a  secluded  spot  on  the  lower  deck  he  met  two  other 
men,  a  heavy-set  fellow  with  a  close-cropped  mus- 
tache, and  a  red-haired  youth,  very  thin  and  pale. 

"  Good  guess  of  yours,"  said  the  plush  hat  to  the 
redhead  ;  "  that's  who  it  is." 

"  Straight  goods  ?  " 

"  Straight  goods." 

"  I  thought  I  recognized  the  car  that  drove  him  to 
the  station  in  New  York.  I  had  a  hunch  we  were 
going  to  strike  it  rich  this  P.  M.  Well,  go  to  it. 
We'll  be  here  in  the  corner  of  the  smoking-room 
waiting  for  you." 

The  plush  hat  disappeared  with  a  noiseless  tread 
from  that  part  of  the  boat.  He  wandered  idly  about 
the  saloons  and  decks  for  a  while,  looking  each  man 

in  the  face.     Then  he  took  up  a  position  opposite 

40 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

the  stateroom  numbered  twelve,  and  waited.  And 
after  a  long  while  a  boyish  person  entered  the  room 
for  the  purpose  of  exchanging  a  stiff  hat  for  a  cap. 
The  man  followed  him  and,  when  he  sat  down  on 
the  seat  by  the  after  rail,  stepped  up  to  him  and 
asked  him  for  a  match.  The  young  man,  without  a 
word,  took  out  a  silver  match-box  and  handed  it  to 
him.  The  plush-hatted  person  noticed  the  initials 
"  M.  H."  on  the  match-box. 

"  Fine  night,"  he  said. 

"  Glorious." 

"  Are  you  familiar  enough  with  the  city  to  tell  me 
what  that  building  is  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

It  was  an  easy  question,  but  Morgan  did  not  know. 
Thereupon,  the  man  appeared  to  remember  the 
building  and  told  a  little  anecdote  about  it,  which 
made  the  other  laugh.  His  cigar  lighted,  he  re- 
turned the  case  with  thanks,  nodded  and  went  aft. 

Fifteen  minutes  elapsed,  and  the  man  returned. 
Morgan  was  still  moodily  watching  the  wake  of 
the  boat. 

"  Sorry  to  disturb  you  again,"  said  the  plush  hat, 
affably,  "  but  there  are  three  of  us  in  the  smoking- 
room  down-stairs  who  want  to  play  a  little  cards 
for  an  hour  before  dinner.  Will  you  make  a  fourth  ?" 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Morgan,  who  had  only  glanced  at  him  before, 
took  a  more  comprehensive  survey.  He  was  not  at 
all  deceived  as  to  the  character  of  this  gentleman. 
He  smiled. 

"  I'm  famished,"  he  said,  evenly.  "  I  was  mean- 
ing to  dine  in  about  ten  minutes." 

The  man  still  smiled. 

"  Perhaps  after  dinner,"  he  said. 

Morgan  shook  his  head. 

"  Don't  count  on  me,"  he  answered. 

The  man  nodded  and  disappeared  unruffled  down 
the  companionway. 

It  was  several  hours  before  their  paths  crossed 
again.  Morgan  Holt's  life  had  not  accustomed  him 
to  early  retiring,  and  it  was  midnight  before  he  fin- 
ished reading  in  the  corner  of  the  almost  deserted 
saloon.  He  closed  his  book,  putting  it  in  his  state- 
room as  he  passed,  and  thrusting  his  hat  on  his  head, 
went  out  on  the  after  deck  to  breathe  the  air  before 
turning  in. 

He  stood  beside  the  emergency  hand  steering  gear 
and  looked  out  across  the  indefinite  dark  waters. 
The  engines  were  pounding,  pounding,  pounding, 
carrying  the  boat  steadily  southward,  yet  hardly 

seeming  to  change  her  position  in  the  huge,  wide 

42 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

night.  A  white  straight  band  of  foaming  water 
churned  up  by  the  propellers  stretched  away  indefi- 
nitely astern  like  a  band  of  milky  way  across  a  dull 
sky.  It  fascinated  him  to  look  over  the  rail  at  the 
indeterminate  waste  around  them,  whose  surface  in 
the  darkness  was  distinguishable  only  where  the 
lights  of  the  cabin  shone  out  upon  it,  casting  squares 
of  light  that  seemed  to  rest  on  some  somber  solid 
rather  than  upon  water.  Off  to  starboard,  one  lonely 
light  marked  the  possible  location  of  shore.  Far 
ahead  flashed  the  red  and  white  light  marking  the 
ship's  course. 

The  red  of  a  man's  cigar  burned  by  the  rail  for- 
ward. Presently  he  threw  it  away  and  it  described 
a  long  curve  before  it  disappeared  in  the  water.  The 
smoker  came  aft.  By  the  reflected  light  from  the 
cabin,  Morgan  recognized  the  man  with  the  plush 
hat.  He  continued  his  contemplation  of  the  bay. 
The  man  leaned  on  the  rail  beside  him. 

"  You  stay  up  late,"  he  remarked. 

"  Why,  yes,"  replied  Morgan,  shortly.  He  did 
not  look  up  nor  change  his  position. 

The  other  appeared  to  be  somewhat  at  a  loss  for 
conversation. 

The  point  where  Morgan  was  standing  was  just  at 

43 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

the  foot  of  the  stairway  leading  down  from  the  up- 
per deck.  A  seat  ran  along  the  rail  forward  of  him, 
but  just  at  that  spot,  on  account  of  lack  of  space,  the 
seat  stopped  and  he  was  able  to  stand  close  up  to  the 
rail.  Suddenly  he  became  aware  of  some  one  stealth- 
ily descending  the  steps  behind  him.  He  made  a 
quick  movement  as  if  to  turn  around.  But  the  man 
beside  him  caught  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Look  out,"  he  cried. 

Several  life-preservers,  which  were  stored  on  the 
ceiling  above  him,  dislodged  by  some  unseen  force, 
fell  down  and  struck  him  on  the  head  and  shoulders. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  cried  his  companion,  attempt- 
ing to  dislodge  one  of  the  open  life-preservers. 
He  gave  a  sudden  unexpected  pull  to  the  thing 
which  jammed  Morgan's  cap  firmly  down  over  his 
eyes. 

Instantly  every  fiber  of  the  boy  was  alert.  His 
father  had  once  said,  "  When  some  one  pushes  your 
hat  over  your  eyes,  feel  for  your  wallet."  Morgan 
felt  at  his  breast  pocket  and  found  his  companion's 
hand. 

With  his  right  hand,  he  grasped  the  other  firmly 
by  the  wrist  and,  stepping  up  close,  drove  his  fist 
into  him  with  all  his  power  just  above  the  watch- 

44 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

chain.  The  man  in  the  plush  hat  dropped  like  a 
felled  tree.  The  pair  of  arms  of  a  second  man  went 
around  him,  pinioning  his  own  arms  to  his  sides, 
while  a  third  made  a  dive  at  his  breast  pocket  from 
the  front.  The  boy  raised  his  leg,  and  the  newcomer, 
a  thin,  red-haired  person,  stopped  suddenly  against 
his  knee-cap.  Not  daunted,  however,  he  reached 
forward  with  his  bony  hands  and  grasped  the  lapels 
of  Morgan's  coat  in  a  grip  of  steel.  The  latter  freed 
one  hand  and,  catching  his  opponent's  right  arm, 
pressed  a  certain  muscle  until  the  redhead  released 
his  grip  and,  leaning  forward  suddenly,  struck  the 
boy  a  vicious  blow  in  the  throat  with  the  side  of  his 
hand.  For  an  instant  everything  was  black  before 
him.  The  other,  quick  to  seize  his  advantage, 
pressed  him  back  over  the  rail  and  reached  for  the 
money.  Morgan  tried  his  jui  jitsu  on  the  man's 
elbow  again. 

"  Here,  lend  a  hand,"  cried  the  redhead,  writhing 
in  pain. 

The  man  who  was  holding  Morgan's  knees  rose, 
freeing  his  legs.  Thus  released  the  latter  swung 
backward  on  the  rail  and,  losing  his  balance, 
dragged  his  red-headed  opponent  over  with  him. 
There  was  a  strip  of  deck  about  three  feet  wide  out- 

45 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

side  the  rail.  The  third  man  caught  them,  Morgan 
upside  down  with  his  head  on  the  deck  outside  the 
rail,  the  other  doubled  up  like  a  jack-knife  over  it. 
When  the  latter  individual,  with  his  companion's  aid, 
straightened  himself  up,  Morgan,  with  a  quick  move- 
ment, attempted  to  untangle  his  legs  and  assume  a 
kneeling  position.  But  the  man's  vest,  to  which  he 
was  clinging,  would  not  stand  the  strain.  The  but- 
tons came  off,  his  grip  slipped,  and  in  a  moment  he 
had  slid  bodily  off  the  edge  of  the  deck. 

He  grasped  at  and  held  on  to  the  boards  for  a  sec- 
ond, missed  his  hold  and  fell  into  the  hurrying  water 
below. 

It  closed  over  his  head.  For  ages,  it  seemed,  he 
hung  there  in  the  bubbling  darkness  under  the  sur- 
face. He  felt  the  rush  of  the  moving  water  thrust 
back  by  the  ship's  propellers.  The  icy  cold  pene- 
trated through  to  his  skin.  When  at  length  he  rose 
to  the  air  again,  he  found  himself  dead  astern  in  the 
milky  churn  of  the  steamer's  screws.  The  boat, 
twenty  feet  away,  towered  overhead,  incredibly  high. 
The  lantern  swinging  at  the  flagpole  seemed  miles 
above  him  among  the  stars.  The  distance  between 
him  and  the  steamer  yawned  greater  and  greater. 
He  raised  his  voice  in  one  mighty  cry.  But  he 

46 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

scarcely  heard  it  above  the  roar  of  the  ship's  thun- 
dering engines. 

The  boat  drew  steadily  away.  No  cry  of  "  Man 
overboard  "  disturbed  the  night.  Not  a  bell  sounded 
in  the  engine-room.  The  ship  proceeded  evenly  on 
her  way.  The  three  men  who  had  pushed  him  over 
were  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

He  shouted  again  desperately,  hopelessly.  This 
of  no  avail,  it  became  imperative  for  him  to  turn  his 
attention  to  his  clothing,  which  made  it  difficult  for 
him  to  keep  afloat.  Rolling  over  on  his  back,  he 
got  his  knife  from  his  pocket,  cut  his  shoe-laces  and 
kicked  off  his  shoes.  His  wallet,  the  cause  of  his 
troubles,  he  rescued  from  his  coat  pocket,  and,  put- 
ting it  in  his  trousers,  turned  the  coat  adrift.  Stock- 
ings followed  the  coat.  His  trousers,  containing  his 
money  and  watch,  he  retained. 

He  took  one  more  glance  at  the  lighted  steamer, 
and  struck  out  for  the  shore.  He  was  a  fairly  good 
swimmer,  capable  of  staying  afloat  for  a  long  while, 
if  he  were  not  taken  with  cramp  in  the  cold  water. 
He  swam  easily,  changing  his  stroke  at  intervals  to 
rest  himself.  Having  once  made  up  his  mind  to  get 
to  shore,  he  did  not  glance  again  in  the  direction  of 
the  disappearing  steamer.  He  did  not  think  of  the 

47 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

danger  of  his  position,  but  devoted  his  entire  atten- 
tion to  swimming.  He  had  been  in  the  water  nearly 
an  hour  when  suddenly  he  instinctively  stopped 
swimming  and  caught  a  great  sturdy  pole  that  rose 
out  of  the  darkness  before  him.  It  was  firmly 
planted  in  the  bottom.  From  his  slight  experience 
with  the  bay,  he  recognized  it  as  one  of  the  familiar 
pound-net  poles.  Shore  would  not  be  more  than 
half  a  mile  further.  He  clung  to  the  pole  and  net 
for  a  while  until  he  got  his  second  wind,  and  then, 
his  teeth  chattering  with  cold,  threaded  his  way 
around  until  he  found  the  end  of  the  nets  and  struck 
out  lustily  for  shore. 

Presently  his  feet  struck  bottom,  and  he  waded 
ashore.  He  divested  himself  immediately  of  his  wet 
garments  and  ran  up  and  down  the  beach  until  the 
night  air  had  dried  his  skin  and  his  quickened  blood 
ran  warm  through  him. 

He  discovered  that  his  match-safe  had  kept  dry 
the  matches  inside  it,  and  gathering  driftwood  that 
lay  on  the  sands,  he  built  a  fine  fire  before  which  he 
dried  the  few  garments  that  now  comprised  his  en- 
tire stock  of  clothes.  When  this  was  done,  it  was 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning  by  his  watch. 

Finally,  worn  out  by  his  exertions,  and  by  lack  of 

48 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

sleep  the  night  before,  Morgan  donned  his  dry  clothes 
and  throwing  himself  down  on  the  sands  by  the  fire, 
was  soon  sound  asleep,  without  having  stopped  to 
speculate  what  manner  of  place  this  new  shore 
might  be. 


49 


CHAPTER  V 

FROM  the  thin  dark  line  of  the  eastern  shore, 
which  seemed  like  a  mere  pencil  stroke  across 
the  water  at  the  point  where  it  joined  the  misty  sky, 
a  tiny  edge  of  the  sun  appeared,  and  its  red  rays, 
skipping  across  the  bay,  set  rows  of  rubies  on  the 
crests  of  the  tiny  waves  which  slapped  the  near 
shore.  A  flock  of  gulls,  garrulously  conversing, 
swept  by  on  their  way  to  business.  The  wise  and 
wary  fish-hawk,  steadying  himself  with  fine  uncon- 
cern above  the  water,  dropped  suddenly  into  it  and 
returned  again  with  his  breakfast  in  his  claw.  Out  in 
the  bay  a  fat  little  steamboat,  churning  the  water 
with  two  energetic  side-wheels,  suddenly,  after  the 
manner  of  little  steamboats,  blew  a  long  blast  on  an 
incredibly  raucous  whistle,  which  awoke  the  early 
morning  echoes  for  a  full  minute. 

Beside  the  ashes  of  his  burned-out  fire,  Morgan 
Holt  started  and  awoke,  shivering.  He  gazed  in- 
credulously at  the  unfamiliar  scene  which  surrounded 
him.  It  was  like  awaking  from  a  sound  sleep  into  a 
dream.  The  beach  above  was  nothing  save  a  long 

50 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

avenue  of  sand  bordered  by  high  banks,  on  which 
sturdy  live-oak  trees,  clinging  close  to  the  ground 
and  bent  landward  by  the  wind,  stood  guard  like 
a  row  of  little  old  gnomes.  Below,  the  shore  curved 
in  to  form  a  sort  of  bay,  around  which  were  clustered 
the  houses  of  a  village.  Not  more  than  two  hundred 
yards  away  jutted  out  into  the  water  a  long  wharf, 
on  which  were  signs  of  great  activity.  A  pile  of 
boxes  and  barrels  and  two  or  three  calves,  all  ready, 
apparently,  to  be  shipped  somewhere,  stood  at  its  far 
end.  About  twenty  or  thirty  people,  all  except  one 
of  whom  were  men,  stood  about  and  watched  the  fat 
steamboat  threshing  its  way  toward  them. 

Having  at  length  satisfied  himself  of  the  possibil- 
ity of  all  this  stage  scenery  being  real,  he  thrust 
his  cold  hands  into  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt  and  looked 
on  with  interest.  The  captain  of  the  steamboat  suc- 
ceeded in  calming  the  restless  thing  as  it  neared  the 
wharf  and  drew  it  alongside  with  great  skill.  Two 
gangplanks  were  run  out.  Down  the  after  one 
came  a  woman  carrying  her  own  bag.  Forward,  a 
wild  scramble  began  to  get  the  three  calves  and  the 
pile  of  barrels  and  boxes  aboard  at  the  same  time. 
The  woman  who  had  been  waiting  on  the  wharf 
greeted  the  other  woman,  but  the  remainder  of  the 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

crowd  for  the  most  part  assumed  the  position  of 
spectators,  watching  some  three  or  four  of  their  num- 
ber assisting  the  deck  hands  in  loading  freight. 

He  considered,  without  enthusiasm,  whether  this 
was  not  the  best  time  for  him  to  announce  his  pres- 
ence in  the  community  and  obtain  a  little  assistance 
in  the  way  of  wardrobe  and  food.  But  he  was  not 
accustomed  to  approaching  a  crowd  of  unknown 
people,  barefooted,  and  attired  only  in  shirt  and 
trousers.  He  felt  very  much  as  he  had  often  felt  in 
one  of  those  distressing  nightmares  when  he  found 
himself  walking  in  broad  daylight  on  some  crowded 
thoroughfare  attired  only  in  his  pajamas. 

The  two  women  came  down  the  long  wharf  and, 
to  his  alarm,  began  to  walk  up  the  beach  toward 
him.  His  first  impulse  was  flight.  But  there  was 
nowhere  to  go.  The  high  banks  that  rose  up  from 
the  edge  of  the  beach  were  entirely  too  steep  to  be 
scaled  with  much  speed.  He  did  not  wish  to  retreat 
up  the  beach  away  from  the  village.  So  he  decided 
to  stay  where  he  was.  He  lay  back  again  on  the 
sand  with  his  hands  behind  his  head  and  looked  up 
at  the  sky,  hoping  to  be  passed  unnoticed. 

The  footsteps  and  the  voices  drew  nearer.  When 
they  came  abreast  of  him,  both  stopped  suddenly. 

52 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

In  a  more  thickly  populated  and  more  thoroughly 
civilized  community  they  would  have  passed  quickly 
by,  but  on  this  quiet  shore  the  Samaritan  instinct 
was  more  thoroughly  developed  ;  and  a  stranger 
lying  on  the  sands  became  a  duty  and  a  cause  for 
concern. 

There  was  some  murmuring,  and  the  footsteps 
came  toward  him.  It  was  no  longer  possible  to  ig- 
nore the  fact  that  they  were  coming  toward  him. 
He  stood  up,  smiling  sheepishly,  painfully  conscious 
of  his  bare  feet  and  his  inadequate  clothes. 

His  evident  embarrassment  conquered  any  hesita- 
tion the  two  ladies  may  have  had.  They  walked  up 
to  him.  One  of  them  wore  a  long,  gray  woolen 
coat,  into  the  pockets  of  which  she  had  thrust  her 
hands.  The  most  noticeable  thing  about  her  was 
her  glorious  copper-colored  hair.  The  other  was  a 
dark-haired,  dark-eyed  girl  of  a  type  unmistakably 
Virginian.  She  was  dressed  in  a  hat  and  suit  and 
was  evidently  the  one  who  had  come  on  the  steam- 
boat. The  copper-haired  woman  spoke  first. 

"  How  did  you  come  here  ?  "  she  asked  with  di- 
rectness. 

"  Why,"  he  returned,  "  I — fell  overboard  from  the 
Norfolk  boat  last  night  and  swam  ashore." 

53 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  The  Norfolk  boat ! "  she  cried  in  amazement. 

He  nodded. 

"  You  are  the  only  man  I  ever  knew,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  who  was  acrobat  enough  to  fall  off  a  Nor- 
folk boat." 

He  smiled,  realizing  the  improbability  of  his  state- 
ment, as  the  decks  of  the  steamer  were  enclosed  with 
high  rails,  and  on  the  smooth  waters  of  the  bay  the 
boat  had  been  as  steady  as  a  stone  house. 

"  To  be  more  accurate,"  he  said,  "  I  was  pushed 
over.  Two  or  three  fellows  were  trying  to  get  my 
wallet,  and  in  the  scuffle  I  went  over  into  the  water." 

She  looked  at  him  seriously. 

"  It  does  not  sound  like  a  typical  scene  on  a  Nor- 
folk boat." 

He  flushed. 

"  You  asked  me  these  questions,"  he  reminded 
her. 

She  brushed  back  the  strand  of  hair  that  blew 
across  her  face,  and  started  to  say  something  in  re- 
ply. But  the  same  wind  that  blew  her  hair  away 
struck  the  thinly-clad  man  before  her  and  he  shivered 
involuntarily.  She  stopped  in  her  speech. 

"  Of  course  you're  cold,"  she  cried,  and  tore  off 
her  coat. 

54 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Rupert,"  remonstrated  the  girl,  in  a 
soft  voice  that  contained  no  trace  of  "  r  "  and  slurred 
easily  over  hard  combinations  of  consonants.  "  Do 
be  careful." 

"  I  don't  need  it  walking.  Put  it  on,"  she  com- 
manded Morgan. 

He  hesitated.     Then  he  put  it  on. 

"  Just  a  minute,"  cried  the  girl,  opening  her  bag 
and  running  rapidly  through  it. 

"  There,"  she  cried,  standing  up  in  triumph  and 
presenting  him  with  a  pair  of  pink  bedroom  slippers. 
They  all  burst  out  laughing.  But  after  some  discus- 
sion, he  put  them  on,  or  to  be  more  accurate,  he 
slipped  his  feet  in  them,  for  his  heels  hung  consid- 
erably over  arear. 

"  Come  with  us,"  said  Mrs.  Rupert. 

They  made  rather  a  queer  cavalcade,  the  two 
women  walking  ahead  and  Morgan  trailing  after, 
attired  in  his  strange  costume.  They  walked  up  the 
beach  for  a  short  way  and  climbed  to  the  higher 
ground  at  a  place  where  some  one  had  built  a  flight 
of  rustic  steps.  The  way  they  were  traveling  was 
evidently  a  short  cut  to  somewhere,  for  after  walk- 
ing in  single  file  across  some  waste  land,  they  pres- 
ently came  out  on  a  highroad.  Morgan  was  rather 

55 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

sensitive  about  the  comic-opera  effect  of  his  clothes, 
when  several  vehicles  passed  them,  but  he  plodded 
straight  ahead  without  looking  up.  In  fact,  it  was 
almost  impossible  for  him  to  look  up,  for  the  slight- 
est inattention  to  his  footwear  resulted  in  his  losing 
it  altogether. 

A  very  short  distance  on  this  road  brought  them 
to  a  stretch  of  box  hedge,  and  a  driveway  entrance 
flanked  by  two  stone  piers.  They  entered  here.  A 
well-kept  lawn,  spotted  with  old  trees,  lay  before 
them,  with  a  gentle  slope  up  to  the  brick  house  that 
stood  back  from  the  gate  several  hundred  feet.  It 
had  a  comfortable  and  homelike  appearance.  On 
the  white  columned  porch  stood  a  fat,  smiling  man 
of  five-and-thirty  or  thereabouts.  Morgan's  first  im- 
pression of  him  was  of  the  neat,  absolutely  studied 
correctness  of  his  clothes.  He  hurried  down  the 
steps  with  a  welcoming  smile. 

"  How  can  you  be  so  beautiful  before  breakfast  ?" 
was  his  greeting,  as  he  took  the  dark-eyed  girl's 
hand.  He  spoke  with  an  easy  carelessness,  that  was 
part  pleasantry  and  part  mild  irony. 

The  girl  smiled. 

"  From  long  study,  I  reckon,"  she  returned. 

"  Business  reasons,  of  course,"  he  went  on,  smiling 

56 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

blandly  at  the  untruth,  "  kept  me  from  meeting  you 
at  the  boat" 

"Which  translated  means,"  explained  Mrs.  Rupert, 
"  that  you  couldn't  have  roused  him  from  his  bed  at 
that  hour  for  a  farm." 

"I  think,"  said  the  girl,  "I  understand  your 
husband." 

That  gentleman  laughed  pleasantly,  and  then, 
turning,  allowed  his  eye  to  rest  on  Morgan.  Im- 
mediately the  smile  faded  and  his  face  was  cold  and 
hard.  He  gazed  arrogantly  at  the  young  man's 
clothes. 

"  What  have  we  here  ? "  he  asked,  in  a  baronial 
manner. 

"  It  is  a  young  man,"  explained  his  wife,  "  who 
fell  off  the  Norfolk  boat.  We  found  him  on  the 
beach." 

He  looked  at  Morgan  with  frank  incredulity. 

"  He  fell,  you  say,  off  the  Norfolk  boat?" 

" I  was  pushed  over,"  the  young  man  said.  "Three 
men  were  trying  to  get  my  money " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  put  in  Mr.  Rupert,  with  an  air  of  com- 
plete sophistication.  "  Usually  there  are  six." 

"  There  were  three  men.  Two  of  them  were  hold- 
ing me  and  the  third " 

57 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Of  course.  The  third  was  trying  to  get  your 
wallet,  containing,  naturally,  untold  wealth.  There 
was  a  sudden,  unexpected  lurch,  over  you  went,  and 
the  boat  went  on  without  you,  the  three  ruffians 
meanwhile  escaping."  He  laughed,  ironically.  "I 
think  I  know  that  story." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  believe  it." 

"  No,"  returned  the  other,  "  not  necessary,  nor 
probable." 

"  My  dear,"  exclaimed  his  wife. 

He  turned  to  her  with  an  impatient  gesture. 

Morgan  took  off  the  coat  and  bedroom  slippers. 

"  I  am  exceedingly  obliged  for  these,"  he  said, 
returning  them  to  Mrs.  Rupert. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  I  think  I  had  best  go." 

Mr.  Rupert  frowned.  He  had  fully  made  up  his 
mind  to  take  care  of  the  newcomer,  but  he  wished 
to  do  it  in  a  thoroughly  condescending  manner, 
without  having  to  accept  any  story  that  he  pre- 
ferred not  to  believe.  He  could  not  allow  Morgan 
to  go  away  in  this  manner,  anyway,  as  it  would  be 
letting  the  young  man  have  his  own  way.  Mr. 
Rupert's  idea  was  to  make  all  arrangements  himself. 

"  Have  you  any  place  to  go  ?  "  he  demanded. 

58 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"No." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  what  you  are  going  to  do  ?  " 

His  tone  was  that  of  a  person  addressing  a  very 
young  child. 

"  No." 

"  Then,"  he  said,  imperiously,  "  you  will  stay 
here." 

To  his  mind  this  settled  the  whole  question.  He 
smiled  good-humoredly. 

"  You  and  I  are  about  of  a  size,"  he  said,  glancing 
down  at  his  ample  girth.  "  I  think  I  have  some 
clothes  that  will  fit  you  precisely." 

Morgan,  too  tired  and  cold  to  refuse,  and  not 
knowing  what  to  do  if  he  did  refuse,  followed  them 
into  the  house,  where  his  feet  rested  on  warm,  soft 
carpets. 


59 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  T  TOT  water,"  said  Mr.  Rupert,  as  they  stood  in 
A  JL  his  own  bedroom,  "  is  now  running  in  yonder 
near-porcelain  tub.     You  will  first  take  a  bath." 

Rupert's  greatest  joy  in  life  was  the  scientific  regu- 
lation of  the  actions  of  others.  He  not  only  knew 
the  precise  and  exact  thing  he  ought  to  do  himself 
on  all  occasions,  but  he  knew  the  precise  and  exact 
thing  every  one  else  ought  to  do  on  all  occasions ; 
and  he  was  never  parsimonious  in  the  dispensation 
of  this  heaven-sent  knowledge.  Morgan  made  no 
comment  on  the  peremptory  form  of  the  request, 
but,  hastily  divesting  himself  of  his  clothes,  stepped 
into  the  fine  warm  water,  which  put  the  blood  in 
circulation  through  his  chilled  body.  When  he  came 
out  the  benevolent  gentleman  had  several  quinine 
pills  ready  for  him.  Following  the  quinine  pills  came 
the  question  of  stockings,  underwear  and  shirt. 

"You  will  instantly  doubt  my  word,"  continued 
the  other,  "  when  I  say  it  is  possible  for  one  so  young 
and  sylph-like  as  you  to  wear  clothes  of  mine,  but  in 

ordering  my  clothes,  when  I  state  clearly  that  I  am  a 

60 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

perfect  forty-four,  of  course  they  feel  that  no  one 
could  be  so  fat  as  that,  so  by  way  of  subtle  compli- 
ment they  send  me  size  thirty-six.  Put  those  on." 

The  other  did  as  directed.  Mr.  Rupert  was  in 
high  glee.  The  ordering  of  the  affairs  of  others  sel- 
dom gave  him  the  opportunity  of  dressing  one  of 
them  from  top  to  toe  in  a  manner  which  just  suited 
himself. 

"  I,  too,"  he  went  on,  bringing  out  a  suit  of  clothes 
from  the  depths  of  a  drawer  in  one  of  his  chiffoniers, 
of  which  there  were  five  in  the  room,  "  was  once 
slender  and  beautiful — in  the  dear  days  of  long  ago. 
This  suit,  made  for  me  at  the  beginning  of  what  I 
might  call  my  transitional  stage,  had  to  be  discarded 
in  the  heyday  of  its  youth  as  wholly  inadequate." 

Morgan  put  it  on. 

"  Splendid ! "  cried  his  companion,  with  the  en- 
thusiasm of  an  artist. 

Shoes,  collar,  necktie,  studs,  sleeve  buttons,  even 
a  scarf  pin  were  forthcoming  as  soon  as  needed.  It 
seemed  that  Mr.  Rupert  never  discarded  any  article 
of  clothing  that  he  had  ever  owned,  but  stored  them 
all  in  the  five  chiffoniers,  perhaps  in  the  hope  of  dis- 
playing a  lavish  hand  in  case  of  the  appearance  of  a 

person  in  just  such  a  position  as  was  Morgan  Holt. 

61 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Oh,  no.  Never  wear  your  necktie  that  way,"  he 
objected  severely,  arranging  the  tie  anew.  "  Thus, 
rather.  All  the  young  men  in  New  York  wear  them 
so." 

"  Do  they  ?  "  observed  Morgan,  meekly. 

"  Were  you  ever  in  New  York  ? "  demanded  the 
other,  looking  at  him  keenly. 

"Yes." 

"  How  long  ago?" 

"  Oh,  twenty-four  hours,  perhaps." 

Morgan  was  brushing  his  hair  before  the  mirror. 
While  doing  so  he  happened  accidentally  to  see  his 
companion  glance  quickly  at  his  watch  and  silver 
match-case  which  lay  on  the  bed,  each  with  the 
monogram  "  M.  H."  engraved  upon  it.  He  knew 
instinctively  what  the  next  question  asked  him  would 
be.  But  he  did  not  show  that  he  had  observed  the 
other's  action. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Rupert  quietly,  "  what  is 
your  name  ?  " 

Morgan  busied  himself  with  a  supposedly  rebellious 
lock  of  hair.  It  was  a  critical  and  important  mo- 
ment. It  was  necessary  above  all  things  that  he 
should  not  reveal  his  identity,  because  that  would 

make  it  impossible  for  him  to  carry  out  his  part  of  the 

62 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

agreement  to  earn  his  living  for  one  year  as  an  or- 
dinary citizen.  The  chances  of  his  being  recognized 
in  a  place  so  far  from  New  York  were  not  great. 
He  was  not  well  known  in  New  York  itself.  His  en- 
forced seclusion  during  his  youth  had  made  him  bet- 
ter known  by  the  fact  of  that  seclusion  than  by  his 
actual  personal  appearance.  He  had  rarely  had  a 
photograph  taken  except  the  few  snapshots  by  news- 
paper reporters  as  he  was  walking  past  a  given 
point,  but  these  would  serve  more  as  a  disguise  than 
otherwise.  Of  course  there  was  always  the  possi- 
bility, in  fact  the  certainty,  perhaps,  that  before  the 
year  was  up  he  would  be  recognized.  But  that  was 
a  perfectly  good  gambling  chance,  and  perhaps  by 
that  time  he  would  be  well  on  the  way  toward  ac- 
complishing his  purpose.  It  was  therefore  necessary 
for  him  to  be  known  by  an  alias ;  or,  to  put  it  in 
other  than  words  of  the  criminal  court,  to  live  incog- 
nito, which  is  considered  a  perfectly  proper  thing  to 
do  ;  the  former  term  being  used  when  one  wishes  to 
avoid  the  undesirable  consequences  of  his  own  iden- 
tity, and  the  latter  when  he  wishes  to  avoid  what  the 
world  calls  the  desirable  ones. 

He   had   intended   to   dispose  of  the  watch  and 
match-safe  before   entering   on   his   new  career,  in 

63 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

order  that  they  might  not  give  the  lie  to  whatever 
cognomen  he  selected.  But  since,  instead  of  enter- 
ing the  career,  the  career  had,  rather,  sprung  up  and 
enveloped  him,  the  name  had  to  be  decided  on 
quickly,  and  must  correspond  to  the  initials  "  M " 
and  "  H."  The  last  name  he  felt  must  be  Morgan, 
so  that  he  would  be  sure  to  look  up  when  spoken  to. 
That  disposed  of  the  letter  "  M."  There  is  only  one 
first  name  beginning  with  "  H  "  which  a  person  could 
decide  on  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  poor  Mor- 
gan had  to  take  that.  But  worse  things  have  hap- 
pened to  many  a  young  man. 

"  My  name,"  he  said,  still  struggling  with  his  sup- 
posedly rebellious  hair,  "  is  Henry  Morgan." 

"Well,  Henry "  began  the  other. 

"  Oh,  no,"  cried  Morgan,  "  call  me  Morgan." 

"  Just  as  you  say." 

"Now  about  my  falling  overboard " 

Mr.  Rupert  smiled. 

"  Isn't  it  a  pleasant  day  ?  "  he  observed  blandly. 

"  But  since  you  doubt  my  story " 

"Oh,  how  could  I  doubt  it?"  returned  the  other 
with  pleasant  irony. 

Morgan  turned  on  him. 

"  Then  what  is  your  version  of  it  ?  " 

64 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  I  have  none." 

"  I  thought  not,"  Holt  replied  coldly. 

Mr.  Rupert  set  his  lips. 

"  Before  we  go  to  breakfast,"  he  said  evenly,  "  do 
you  wish  to  send  a  telegram  to  your  friends  ?  You 
can  do  so  by  using  the  telephone." 

"  No,  thanks." 

"  Perhaps  a  letter — a  special  delivery  letter." 

"  No,  I  think  not." 

Mr.  Rupert  turned  about  suddenly  at  the  door. 

"I  will  say  this  much  to  you  then,  Morgan,"  he 
said,  calmly,  "  your  story  has  not  convinced  me.  If 
you  have  any  desire  that  I  shall  believe  it,  or  that 
any  one  else  here  shall  believe  it,  you  will  doubtless 
have  letters  from  your  friends  in  New  York  saying 
who  you  are,  and  that  you  were  simply  a  passenger 
on  the  boat  and  not " 

He  paused. 

"Yes;  and  not — what?"  demanded  the  young 
man. 

"  Some  one  running  away." 

Morgan  stared  at  him. 

"  I  think  I  will  write  that  letter,  Mr.  Rupert,"  he 
said,  shortly. 

"  Very  well." 

65 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  was  the  library.  In  it 
stood  a  small  desk  and  writing  materials. 

"  Make  yourself  perfectly  comfortable,  and  when 
you  have  finished  come  into  the  dining-room,"  said 
Rupert,  and  left  him  alone. 

The  young  man  took  a  piece  of  paper  from  a 
pigeonhole  and  thoughtfully  did  a  sum  upon  it. 
Then  from  his  pocketbook,  still  damp,  he  took  a 
crumpled,  moist  twenty  dollar  bill  and  put  it  in  an 
envelope.  He  wrote  on  the  paper  : 

"  This  should  reimburse  you  for  the  clothes, 
which  I  must  have.  If  you  think  I  am  an  escap- 
ing thief,  or  other  criminal,  it  might  be  em- 
barrassing for  you  to  have  me  at  breakfast." 

He  put  this  in  the  envelope  with  the  bill,  sealed  it, 
and  addressed  it  to  Mr.  Rupert.  Then  putting  it  in 
a  conspicuous  spot  in  the  hall,  he  opened  the  door 
and  went  out. 


66 


CHAPTER  VII 

HE  walked  down  the  smooth  lawn  through  the 
gate  to  the  highroad.  He  smiled  as  he  thought 
of  the  strangely  garbed  creature  he  had  been  when  he 
entered  that  gate.  It  was  a  macadam  road,  evidently 
running  between  places  of  importance.  Along  its 
edges  were  other  places  similar  to  the  Ruperts' — 
places  having  two  or  three  acres  of  lawn  about  the 
houses,  all  beautifully  kept,  and  shaded  by  old  trees  ; 
and  sometimes  having  barns  and  stables  and  farm 
implements  back  of  the  houses,  seeming  to  indicate 
that  the  fields  beyond  were  part  of  these  places,  and 
that  they  were  the  homes  of  farmers.  He  walked 
for  nearly  a  mile  in  the  direction  where  he  had  seen 
the  village,  before  the  houses  began  to  be  closer  to- 
gether, and  then  suddenly,  as  is  the  case  in  country 
towns,  he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  it  before  he 
was  actually  aware  of  it. 

It  was  a  long  town,  built  on  each  side  of  the  road 
and  seeming  to  have  no  ambition  to  extend  further 
back  in  either  direction.  There  was  absolutely  no 

67 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

competition  in  the  way  of  streets.  The  place  seemed 
to  have  grown  up  beside  the  road  which  led  down  to 
the  long  wharf,  and  the  idea  of  lateral  and  parallel 
thoroughfares  was  a  complication  quite  too  deep 
to  be  grasped.  It  is  true  that  a  few  houses  did  sit 
disconsolately  in  the  mid-distance  behind  the  houses 
on  the  street,  but  it  was  easy  to  imagine  that  they 
were  the  abiding  place  of  the  proletariat  and  that  the 
social  elect  who  occupied  the  salmon  tinted  frame 
houses  on  Main  Street  felt  several  grades  above  them 
in  point  of  respectability. 

It  was  a  pleasant  town.  The  narrow  sidewalks 
were  built  of  brick,  cheerfully  out  of  level  like  the 
waves  of  the  sea.  In  places  the  maples  and  crepe 
myrtles,  which  lined  the  street,  stood  complacently 
in  the  middle  of  the  walk,  and  the  pedestrian,  realiz- 
ing that  it  was  useless  to  wait  for  them  to  move, 
found  it  necessary  to  walk  around  them.  Few  of  the 
houses  were  large.  They  sat  back  from  the  street, 
resting  comfortably  under  the  shade  of  the  trees, — 
frame  houses  painted  impossible  colors,  embroidered 
and  featherstitched  with  many  yards  of  jig-saw  orna- 
ment. Fig  trees  and  magnolias  grew  beside  the 
hedges  and  the  whitewashed  fences  which  separated 

the  lawns.     Here  and  there  nature's  green  was  en- 

68 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

riched  by  a  pair  of  cast-iron  animals  standing  by  the 
entrance  paths,  and  endeavoring  to  look  like  dogs. 

The  whole  town  was  tremendously  respectable  in 
its  appearance.  The  front  doors  of  the  houses  had 
beveled  plate  glass  panels  and  were  elaborately 
grained  in  imitation  of  walnut.  The  house  in  which 
the  village  physician  lived  was  the  most  respectable 
of  all  the  houses.  The  excessive  frontal  develop- 
ment accorded  it  by  its  mansard  roof  gave  it  an  air 
of  intellectuality  and  reserve,  and  made  it  so  appro- 
priate as  the  home  of  the  doctor  that  the  faded  sign 
on  the  gate-post,  upon  which  appeared  his  name  and 
a  hypothetical  set  of  office  hours,  was  almost  un- 
necessary. Morgan  saw  the  doctor  himself  come  out 
as  he  passed — a  burly  man  with  streaks  of  mud  on 
his  trouser  legs  and  burrs  sticking  to  the  skirts  of 
his  coat.  The  information  he  called  back  in  his  big 
voice  as  to  the  probable  time  of  his  return  was  shared 
by  the  entire  village,  which  was  wholly  within  range 
of  the  echo. 

As  the  doctor  opened  his  gate  Morgan  had  his  first 
experience  in  a  new  and  hitherto  unsuspected  r61e. 
The  big  man  glanced  at  him  casually  with  the  full 
expectation,  though  Morgan  did  not  know  it,  of  hail- 
ing him  heartily  by  his  first  name.  When  he  saw 

69 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

the  unfamiliar  face  his  hand  on  the  gate  latch  dropped 
involuntarily,  and  he  treated  the  young  man  to  a 
curious,  speculative  stare  which  was  wholly  uncon- 
scious ;  for  Morgan  was  now  that  tremendously  im- 
portant figure — a  stranger  in  the  village. 

Further  on,  the  residential  part  of  the  town  seemed 
to  cease  by  common  consent.  Here  stood  a  row  of 
stores,  set  back,  like  the  houses,  from  the  street. 
The  sidewalk  turned  a  right  angle,  went  twenty  feet 
or  more  from  the  road,  turned  another  right  angle 
and  ran  along  before  the  front  porches  of  the  stores, 
thus  giving  a  space  beside  the  road  where  vehicles 
might  be  parked  and  their  horses  tethered  to  the 
long,  tooth-worn  hitching-rail.  There  was,  in  this 
row,  a  drug  store,  a  hardware  store,  a  sort  of  ship 
chandler's  shop,  a  grocery,  a  post-office,  a  bank,  and 
five  or  six  other  small  mercantile  establishments. 
The  sign  on  the  bank  read  : 

PRINCE  CHARLES  SAVING  INSTITUTION 

Joseph  Rupert,  Cashier 
Banking  Hours, — 9  to  3 
Saturdays,  —  9  to  12 

He  went  into  the  post-office  and  wrote  a  special 

delivery  letter  to  the  lawyer  in  New  York  requesting 

70 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

him  to  telegraph  to  Norfolk  asking  the  steamship 
company  to  have  the  suit  case  which  he  had  left  in 
the  stateroom  sent  to  his  address  in  New  York. 
This  was  in  order  that  no  suspicion  that  he  had  left 
the  boat  in  any  other  than  the  regular  manner  might 
be  aroused.  As  it  was,  the  officers  of  the  steamer 
had  no  way  of  telling  that  he  had  not  stepped  off  at  the 
wharf  in  Norfolk  instead  of  at  some  unknown  point  in 
the  middle  of  Chesapeake  Bay.  As  long  as  they  con- 
tinued in  that  belief  there  would  be  no  paragraph  in 
the  newspapers  concerning  him.  As  long  as  no  para- 
graph appeared  in  the  newspapers  he  stood  a  good 
chance  of  preserving  his  incognito  in  this  new  town. 
He  soon  noticed  that  wherever  he  went  business 
was  suspended.  The  man  who  was  hitching  his 
horse  before  the  grocery  store  stopped  with  the  halter 
half-way  round  the  rail.  Discussion  on  the  front 
porch  of  the  store  ceased  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence 
as  he  approached.  He  could  fairly  hear  them  look- 
ing at  him.  As  he  stood  at  the  desk  in  the  post- 
office  a  stream  of  people  entered,  on  one  pretext  or 
another,  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  town  twice 
the  size.  He  was  a  very  prosperous  looking  young 
man  in  the  clothes  Mr.  Rupert  had  given  him,  and 
almost  justified  their  curiosity. 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

The  letter  written  he  began  to  feel  hungry. 

"  Is  there  a  place  where  I  can  get  breakfast  ?  "  he 
asked  the  nearest  bystander. 

The  man  brightened. 

"  Yes,  suh  !     At  the  hotel.     I'll  show  you." 

Morgan  followed  him  to  the  sidewalk.  The  man 
walked  beside  him. 

"  Down  here  about  the  cypress  ?"  he  asked  genially. 

"  The  what  ?  " 

"  The  cypress  trees  ?  " 

"  Oh  !     Why,  no,  I  guess  not." 

"  Come  on  the  boat  this  mo'nin'  ?  "  asked  the  other, 
trying  another  subject. 

"  No." 

Conversation  languished  for  a  moment. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  this  town  ?  "  demanded 
Morgan  at  length. 

The  man  stopped  in  his  walk. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  he  inquired  bewildered. 

"  This  town.     Has  it  a  name  ?  " 

The  man  looked  at  him  as  if  he  had  taken  leave 
of  his  senses. 

"  Shorely  !  It's  Prince  Charles.  What  town  did 
you  think  you  were  in  ?  " 

"  I  hesitated  to  form  an  opinion,"  he  returned. 

72 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

The  hotel  was  a  stone  structure  which  looked  as 
if  it  had  been  there  a  very  long  while,  as  indeed  it 
had  been.  The  stone  was  rusty  and  discolored  from 
a  thousand  rains.  The  shutters  were  great  wide 
shutters  that  closed  over  the  small  paned  windows, 
and  were  fastened  on  the  outside  with  an  iron  bar. 
A  creaking  sign  bore  the  legend,  "  Prince  Charles 
Tavern."  Morgan  discovered  later  that  this  struc- 
ture was  the  nucleus  of  the  town.  It  had  been  built 
for  the  convenience  of  farmers  who  for  a  hundred 
years  had  hauled  their  crops  to  this  point  to  be 
ground  at  the  mill  and  shipped  away  on  sailboats, 
and  later  on  the  little  side-wheel  steamboat  which 
stopped  at  Prince  Charles  two  days  every  week. 

The  breakfast  at  the  Prince  Charles  Tavern  was 
bacon  and  eggs,  hominy  grits  and  hot  bread.  This 
is  a  good  breakfast  when  you  and  your  father  and 
your  father's  fathers  have  eaten  it  all  your  lives  ;  or 
when  you  have  been  thrown  overboard  at  midnight, 
swum  a  mile  and  a  half  to  shore,  slept  on  the  sand 
and  had  nothing  to  eat  until  nine  in  the  morning. 

Morgan  ate  like  a  man  on  shore  leave.  After  his 
meal  he  was  sitting  on  a  bench  on  the  low  brick- 
floored  front  porch  when  the  man  who  had  piloted 
him  to  the  hotel,  and  who  had  meanwhile  been  in 

73 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

the  office  reading  the  almanac,  strolled  out  and 
stood  by  the  door-jamb.  He  was  a  hollow-cheeked, 
hollow-chested  man  of  about  forty-five,  with  just  a 
trace  of  unnatural  flush  on  his  thin  cheeks.  His 
small  gray  mustache  drooped  at  the  corners  of  his 
mouth.  He  had  mild  blue  eyes,  and  now  and  then 
he  coughed  a  short,  ineffectual  cough. 

"  Much  business  in  this  town  ? "  demanded  Mor- 
gan. It  sounded  like  the  proper  thing  to  say, 
although  it  seemed  strange  to  say  it.  The  opera- 
tion of  beginning  to  earn  your  living  unassisted  was 
a  formidable  one  when  you  did  not  even  have  a 
clue  as  to  how  to  start. 

"  Yes,  sir.  They's  right  smart  of  business  in  this 
town — farmers  bringin'  in  their  co'n  and  wheat,  and 
hawgs,  and  purchasin'  feed  and  sto's  and  one  thing 
and  another,  and  general  activity.  Yes,  sir.  They 
is  so." 

"  Who's  the  most  influential  man  in  the  town  ?  " 

"  Well,  now,  I  don't  know  as  you  could  say  any 
one  man  was  the  mos'  influential  man,  but  we  have 
some  real  influential  men.  Yes,  sir.  Now,  lemme 
see.  John,"  he  called  in  the  doorway,  "  who'd  you 
say  was  the  most  influential  man  now  in  Prince 
Charles?" 

74 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

The  proprietor  of  the  tavern  came  to  the  door. 

"  I  reckon,"  he  said  after  some  thought,  "  I'd  say 
Joseph  Rupert." 

"Yes,  sir,"  chimed  in  the  other,  "that's  who  I'd 
have  said." 

Morgan  looked  up  with  interest. 

"  If  you  take  the  man  who's  done  the  most  for  the 
community,"  went  on  the  innkeeper,  "  there  isn't  a 
shadow  of  a  doubt  that  Mr.  Rupert  is  the  most  in- 
fluential person  we  have.  I  tell  you  why.  Over 
yonder" — the  man  pointed  westward — "about  a 
mile  or  so,  is  a  thousand  acres  of  cypress  swamp. 
Been  lying  there  for  years  upon  years,  and  nobody 
ever  thought  of  disposing  of  it  for  money  until  Mr. 
Rupert  got  some  gentlemen  in  New  York  interested, 
and  they  formed  a  stock  company  to  cut  it.  And 
cypress  selling  at  fifty  and  sixty  dollars  a  thousand 
in  New  York  City." 

"And  they've  started  to  cut  it?"  demanded  the 
young  man,  eagerly.  Here  was  a  big  operation  in 
sight  which  might  mean  opportunity. 

"  No,  sir,"  put  in  the  thin  man,  quickly.  "  They 
ain't  started  to  cut  it." 

Morgan's  face  fell. 

"  You  see,"  the  man  went  on,  "  it's  all  got  to  be 

75 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

dreened  first.  All  those  trees  is  six  feet  under  water 
— almost — if  not  more.  That's  the  first  thing  they 
have  to  do.  But  when  they  begin  to  cut  'em  this 
town  is  goin'  to  boom.  It  is  so." 

The  innkeeper  put  his  foot  up  on  the  bench  and 
leaned  on  his  knee. 

"  The  thing  that  Mr.  Rupert  did  that  was  a  benefit 
to  the  community,  besides  getting  these  gentlemen 
interested  in  the  timber,  was  when  he  allowed  every 
one  who  wanted  to  have  an  interest  in  the  venture. 
That  made  it  a  common  enterprise.  He  sold  bonds, 
absolutely  secured  by  the  value  of  the  real  estate, 
paying  six  per  cent,  interest,  par  value  one  hundred 
dollars.  Almost  every  one  who  could  bought  one 
or  two,  or  sometimes  as  high  as  ten.  I  have  one, 
myself.  Now,  I  call  that  square.  Some  men  would 
have  kept  it  all  to  themselves,  and  made  all  the 
money  themselves,  but  not  Mr.  Rupert." 

"Yes,  I  will  say  that,"  observed  the  other  man, 
with  the  air  of  a  person  who  has  been  arguing 
strongly  against  it  all  along.  "  Mr.  Rupert  shore  is 
square" 

Morgan  was  idly  watching  an  automobile  coming 
down  the  road,  rather  surprised  that  there  should  be 

such  a  thing  in  that  part  of  the  world. 

76 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"Do  you  know  Mr.  Rupert,  sir?"  asked  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  tavern. 

"  Why,  yes,  I  do." 

Just  then  the  automobile  stopped  before  the  hotel, 
and  he  was  surprised  to  hear  some  one  call,  "  Mr. 
Morgan." 

"  There's  Mrs.  Rupert  now,"  cried  the  innkeeper. 

Morgan  ran  down  to  the  sidewalk.  Mrs.  Rupert 
and  Miss  Marshall  were  in  the  car. 

"  You  left  us  so  unceremoniously  this  morning," 
said  the  former,  "  that  we  had  no  opportunity  to 
find  out  whether  you  were  to  sojourn  here  longer,  or 
whether  you  were  going  to  leave  immediately." 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Rupert,"  returned  Morgan,  "  I  am 
going  to  stay  here  a  long  while, — if  I  can  find  a  way 
to  make  money." 

"  I  think  you  will  need  to  find  a  way,"  she  said, 
smiling  and  showing  her  white  teeth,  "  if  you  spend 
it  so  lavishly  as  you  did  this  morning." 

"  But  see  how  well  they  fit." 

"  It's  very  beautiful,  I  must  admit,"  she  observed, 
glancing  critically  at  his  costume. 

Miss  Marshall  smiled. 

"Much  better,  isn't  it,"  she  asked,  "than  pink 
slippers  ?  " 

77 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Well,  it's  more  nearly  what  men  of  my  age  are 
wearing,"  he  acknowledged. 

"  This  is  nonsense,"  said  the  other  lady.  "  We 
must  go.  Will  you  dine  with  us  to-night,  Mr.  Mor- 
gan ?  Mr.  Rupert  says  he  has  a  proposition  to  make 
you." 

He  hesitated.  From  the  casual — the  almost  too 
casual — way  the  invitation  was  given,  he  had  a  feel- 
ing that,  after  the  dramatic  manner  of  his  leaving 
her  house  in  the  morning,  she  rather  expected  he 
would  refuse,  and  desired  to  give  him  an  opportu- 
nity to  accept  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  course.  He 
wanted  to  accept,  certainly.  These  were  very  pleas- 
ant people,  and  the  only  object  of  his  decided  exit 
from  their  house  had  been  to  preserve  his  self-re- 
spect, a  move  which  sooner  or  later  Mr.  Rupert's 
overbearing  manner  was  bound  to  make  necessary. 
As  the  invitation  to  dinner  was  in  the  nature  of  a 
peace-offering,  he  felt  that  his  purpose  had  been  ac- 
complished, and  accepted  it  without  further  hesita- 
tion. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MORGAN  watched  the  machine  glide  down  the 
street  with  rather  a  feeling  of  desolation.  He 
would  have  liked  to  detain  them  and  talk  to  them  a 
little.  Already  the  unaccustomed  strangeness  of  the 
town  was  beginning  to  weigh  down  on  his  spirits  a 
little.  Loneliness  was  not  a  usual  thing  for  him.  Liv- 
ing a  life  where  there  were  always  people  about  him, 
he  had  enjoyed  being  alone.  He  had  spent  days,  in 
his  boyhood,  by  himself  reading,  but  in  the  house  were 
a  score  of  people  to  whom  he  might  have  turned  for 
companionship.  There  were  rooms  which  were  es- 
pecially his,  where  associations  accumulated  by  many 
years  made  them  comfortable  and  happy  places  to 
be.  But  now  he  found  himself  with  no  particular 
spot  to  call  his  own,  no  area,  however  small,  which 
was  home.  He  was  dependent  on  people  alone,  and 
the  only  two  people  he  could  depend  on  had  gone. 
There  would  be  no  opportunity  to  see  them  again 
until  evening.  He  could  not  remember  a  time  in 
his  life  when  a  period  of  eight  or  nine  hours  seemed 
such  a  long  time  to  wait. 

79 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  knew  he  did  not  want  other  people's  society 
for  the  sake  of  their  company,  or  a  spot  he  could  call 
home  for  the  sake  of  being  there.  It  was  not  the 
loneliness  of  homelessness  and  friendlessness  that 
oppressed  him.  It  was  the  dependence  he  felt  on 
things  outside  himself.  He  was  starting  a  fight 
against  the  world,  an  unaccustomed  fight,  for  the 
thing  he  had  always  had  most  of.  His  uncertainty 
in  this  new  position  put  in  him  an  instinctive  desire 
for  moral  support,  for  some  assurance  that  he  was 
not  standing  alone,  but  that  there  were  helping  hands 
near  in  case  of  need.  He  did  not  reason  all  this  out. 
The  word  loneliness  was  far  from  the  front  of  his 
mind.  He  only  knew  that  when  the  machine  rolled 
away  down  the  street  he  was  sorry  out  of  all  propor- 
tion to  the  importance  of  the  occurrence. 

He  was  distinctly  pleased  then  to  find  his  humble 
friends  still  on  the  porch  of  the  hotel  when  he  re- 
turned. It  brightened  him  up  considerably.  They 
both  wore  an  air  of  deference  which  he  did  not  at- 
tach to  the  fact  of  his  acquaintance  with  the  ladies. 

The  hotel-keeper  looked  at  him  keenly. 

"I  reckon  you  came  down  about  the  cypress  ?"  he 
asserted,  interrogatively. 

Morgan  denied  it. 

80 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  I  don't  reckon  that  there  is  much  else  a  man 
could  come  to  this  town  for,"  the  thin  man  observed, 
pessimistically.  "  Now,  you're  a  city  man — come 
from  New  York,  perhaps,  had  a  college  education, 
maybe.  Why,  there  just  simply  ain't  anything  in 
this  town  for  a  young  fellow  like  you, — lessen  it  is 
the  cypress.  No,  sir,  nothin'  'tall.  Ain't  I  right, 
John  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  so,  Alexander.  But,"  he  added  hope- 
fully, "  I  think  there  are  better  days  coming.  Cypress 
is  going  to  make  a  new  town  of  this  village." 

They  spoke  of  Cypress  with  an  implied  capital 
letter  as  though  it  were  a  tutelary  goddess  on  whose 
good  offices  alone  depended  the  future  of  the  com- 
munity. 

"  Then,"  observed  Morgan  cheerfully,  "  I  think  I 
shall  begin  to  take  an  interest  in  cypress." 

He  rose  in  their  estimation  once  more. 

"  You're  a  lumberman,  perhaps,"  said  the  landlord. 

"  No." 

"  Maybe  you  have  some  new  patent  machine," 
put  in  Alexander,  cutting  short  a  staccato  cough  for 
the  purpose  of  entering  the  conversation.  "  There 
was  a  fellow  down  here  last  week  with  a  loggin'  ma- 
chine. Completest  thing  you  ever  saw.  It  was  so. 

Si 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Dragged  the  logs  along  the  ground  up  to  a  flat  car, 
picked  'em  up,  and  set  'em  down  on  the  car  any 
place  you  say,  and  when  it  got  the  car  full,  why  it 
lifted  itself  up  and  just  naturally  pushed  the  car  be- 
tween its  legs,  as  you  might  say.  Yes,  sir;  and 
started  loadin'  on  the  next  car.  Ain't  it  the  truth, 
John?" 

John  assured  him  it  was  the  truth. 

"  No,"  said  Morgan,  "  I  am  selling  nothing.  I  be- 
lieve I'll  just  look  the  situation  over,  and  if  I  feel  the 
enterprise  isn't  being  managed  right  I'll  take  a  hand 
in  it  myself." 

He  intended  this  to  be  a  bit  of  humor,  so  that  they 
would  not  attach  too  much  importance  to  his  inten- 
tions on  the  lumber  question,  but  they  took  him  in 
dead  earnest. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  landlord,  seriously,  "there 
are  some  of  us  who  think  they  are  taking  too  long 
about  going  to  work  on  it.  Here  it's  been  two  years 
since  the  bonds  were  issued  and  paid  for,  and  not  a 
hand's  turn  has  been  done  over  there." 
"  Perhaps  they  haven't  the  money." 

"  Well,  sir,  they  claimed  they  had  the  ground  clear. 
There's  a  thousand  acres  which  they  claim  is  worth 

forty   dollars  an  acre,  although  nobody  round  here 

82 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

ever  paid  that  much  for  swamp  land.  But  if  it  has 
valuable  timber  on  it,  I  suppose  maybe  it  is  worth 
that  much.  That's  reasonable.  That's  forty  thou- 
sand dollars — assets,  as  they  call  it  in  the  circular. 
Well,  they  issued  bonds  for  the  whole  amount,  which 
gave  them  forty  thousand  dollars  cash  capital.  That 
ought  to  have  been  enough  to  start  operations  on. 
Forty  thousand  dollars  will  go  a  long  way  in  this 
part  of  the  country." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  enough,"  said  Mor- 
gan, to  whom,  however,  it  did  not  seem  a  large  sum. 
It  had  cost  his  father  three  hundred  thousand  dollars 
to  start  a  chicken  farm  in  Pennsylvania  for  his  own 
amusement,  on  which  he  produced  thirty  thousand 
perfect  eggs  a  year  at  a  net  cost  over  all  expenses  of 
one  dollar  per  egg.  That  was  the  school  in  which 
the  young  man  had  learned  to  appreciate  the  pur- 
chasing value  of  money. 

"  How  do  you  get  to  this  cypress  swamp  ?  "  he 
demanded,  presently. 

"  Why,"  said  Alexander,  "  you  follow  the  shore 
down  there  till  you  come  to  a  wagon  road  bearing 
off  to — are  you  thinkin'  of  going  ?  "  he  broke  off 
abruptly. 

"  Why,  yes." 

83 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I'll  go  along  with  you.  I  hadn't 
laid  out  to  go  along  back  till  this  evenin',  but  as 
long  as  I  got  company  I  might  as  well  go  now.  I 
live  down  that  way,"  he  explained. 

He  disappeared  into  the  hotel,  and  reappeared 
presently  bearing  a  bag  of  flour  and  a  ham. 

"  You  carry  the  flour,  and  I'll  carry  the  ham,"  said 
Morgan. 

Thus  burdened,  they  went  down  along  the  shore, 
turned  back  from  the  water's  edge  at  the  wagon- 
trail,  and  followed  the  narrow,  deep  rutted  road  back 
through  the  woods  of  tall  Southern  pines.  At  a  cer- 
tain point  in  the  road  where  a  fainter  track  ran  off 
into  the  deeper  woods,  his  companion  stowed  the 
ham  and  flour  in  the  bushes,  and  covering  them 
over  with  some  branches  which  he  weighted  down 
with  stones,  left  them  there  to  be  called  for,  and  led 
Morgan  over  the  second  road.  It  was  not  a  much 
traveled  way.  In  places  it  could  hardly  be  distin- 
guished at  all.  Presently  they  came  to  a  gentle  rise 
of  ground,  made  rather  difficult  by  boulders  and 
large  imbedded  rocks,  which  practically  broke  up  the 
trail  altogether.  Then  the  ground  began  to  fall,  the 
vegetation,  which  had  been  rather  sparse,  running 
mostly  to  briars  and  small  tree  shoots,  became 

84 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

greener  and  thicker  and  more  luxurious.  The  ground 
was  soft  and  spongy  underfoot. 

"  Right  yere  is  the  beginnin'  of  it,"  said  his  guide. 

They  went  further,  stepping  from  hummock  to 
hummock.  They  could  see  in  the  distance  the  water 
shining  in  the  occasional  rays  of  sunlight  that  filtered 
through  the  trees.  They  were  the  real  cypress  trees 
standing  thick  in  the  water.  The  ones  they  saw 
were  submerged  for  from  four  to  six  feet,  and  a  per- 
ceptible ring  had  grown  around  the  trunks  at  the 
point  where  they  rose  out  of  the  water.  As  far  as 
they  could  see  were  the  cypress  trees. 

"  They  say  there's  a  thousand  acres  just  like  that," 
observed  Alexander. 

"  Don't  see  how  they  can  cut  it  profitably  in  all 
that  water." 

"  Now,  they  tell  me  they're  goin'  to  dreen  it,  a  little 
bit  at  a  time.  I  had  it  explained  to  me,  but  I  don't 
just  recollect  the  ins  and  outs  of  it.  It  seems  they 
are  going  to  fence  off,  like,  a  little  bit  at  a  time,  and 
dreen  that  until  the  trees  are  all  cut." 

They  went  back  to  the  top  of  the  rise  of  ground 
over  which  they  had  come  and  found  it  was  a  ridge 
that  ran  all  the  way  around  the  swamp.  They  found 
it  ran  all  the  way  around,  because  they  followed  it 

85 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

the  whole  way  to  see — a  distance  of  a  little  over  four 
miles.  The  newest  devotee  to  the  Goddess  Cypress 
wished  to  find  out  whether  there  was  an  outlet  from 
the  swamp.  There  was  none  visible,  although  in- 
dications of  rock  formation  all  along  the  ridge 
pointed  to  the  fact  that  the  outlet  from  the  swamp 
was  through  fissures  in  the  stone,  and  that  the  swamp 
was  simply  a  rock-bound  reservoir,  doubtless  fed  by 
springs,  and  the  surplus  carried  off  by  underground 
drainage  which  probably  supplied  the  springs  and 
wells  for  many  miles  around.  That  seemed  to  be 
about  all  the  information  he  could  glean  by  super- 
ficial observation ;  so,  finding  himself  thoroughly 
tired  out,  he  returned  to  the  hotel  and  went  to  bed 
immediately,  having  just  arranged,  entirely  to  his 
satisfaction,  to  be  housed  and  fed  there  at  the  rate  of 
three  dollars  a  day  (that  being  just  double  the  regu- 
lar price).  His  clothes  were  in  a  very  sad  state,  as 
he  had  been  utterly  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  they 
were  all  he  had.  A  dollar  to  the  colored  chamber- 
maid, however,  inspired  her  to  promise  to  press  his 
trousers  and  blacken  his  shoes.  These  matters  dis- 
posed of,  he  slept  in  peace  until  the  October  sun  had 
disappeared,  leaving  a  crimson  sky  behind  the  leaf- 
less trees  in  the  west. 

86 


CHAPTER  IX 

"  "IV  TOW  I  have  arranged  everything  for  you,"  said 
•*•  ^1  Mr.  Rupert  with  a  bland  air  of  having  satisfac- 
torily discharged  a  duty.  "  As  soon  as  Mrs.  Rupert 
informed  me  that  it  was  your  purpose  to  stay  here  I 
spoke  to  Miss  Torrey  on  the  question  of  board.  She 
lives  with  her  brother,  Dr.  Torrey,  and  they  have  a 
very  nice  house.  You  are  to  go  there  to-morrow, 
beginning  at  dinner  time.  The  board  and  room  will 
be  twenty-five  dollars  a  month." 

Morgan  wondered  how  any  one  could  furnish  board 
and  room  for  twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  but  he  was 
so  fascinated  by  the  gentleman's  easy  assumption  of 
control  of  himself  and  his  actions  that  he  was  per- 
fectly dumb. 

"  So  much  for  that,"  went  on  the  other  composedly. 
"  If  you  stay  here  you  will,  of  course,  have  to  have 
some  occupation.  You  have  absolutely  no  idea  of 
the  value  of  money.  You  can't  go  on  scattering 
twenty  dollar  bills  in  your  wake,  and  living  at  the 
hotel  at  the  rate  of  three  dollars  a  day.  You  must 

87 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

cultivate  a  little  judgment  and  endeavor  to  be  self- 
supporting." 

"  I  certainly  have  every  wish  to  be,"  said 
Morgan. 

"  You  must  be.  To  that  end  I  have  made  this  ar- 
rangement. I  am  the  cashier  of  the  Savings  Bank 
here,  as  you  know."  Morgan  resented  the  "  as  you 
know,"  but  he  made  no  comment.  "  In  that  posi- 
tion," went  on  the  other,  "I  have  the  privilege  of  hav- 
ing two  assistants.  One  of  these  has  been  with  me 
for  a  long  while.  He  is  teller,  and  stays  in  the  bank 
to  transact  what  business  he  is  capable  of  in  my  ab- 
sence. There  has  been  no  second  assistant  for  sev- 
eral years,  but  one  is  necessary.  I  have  decided  to 
give  you  a  trial.  Come  there  to-morrow  morning 
and  work  hard  and  endeavor  to  keep  the  position. 
The  salary  will  be  fifteen  dollars  a  week.  In  addi- 
tion to  your  regular  duties  I  shall  expect  you  to  bring 
up  here  to  me  every  evening  the  mail  which  arrives 
at  half-past  five." 

The  supercilious  calm  of  the  man  was  maddening. 
Morgan's  only  desire  was  to  make  a  dramatic 
speech,  and  thrust  his  job  back  in  his  teeth,  but  he 
was  too  well  aware  that  this  was  probably  the  only 

opportunity  that  would  be  offered  him  of  making  a 

88 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

living  in  that  small  town,  so  he  made  no  extended 
reply. 

"  I  am  surely  much  indebted  to  you,"  he  said. 

The  bank  cashier  pulled  a  crumpled  twenty-dollar 
bill  out  of  his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  his  new  em- 
ployee. 

"  Put  that  in  your  pocket,"  he  observed  indulgently, 
"  and  never  write  me  another  of  those  sic  semper 
tyrannis  letters,  or  I'll  have  you  arrested  by  the 
county  sheriff — if  I  can  get  you  to  wait  until  some 
one  finds  him." 

Morgan  laughed  at  this  bit  of  foolishness. 

"  But  if  you  think  I  am  a  fugitive  from  justice " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  cut  in  Rupert,  "  you  have 
given  me  every  reason  to  suppose  that  everything  is 
not  exactly  right  with  you.  I  think  I  should  not  be 
further  asked  to  commit  myself.  I  have  offered  you 
a  position  in  a  bank,  which  seems  to  me  to  be  a  high 
compliment  to  a  man  in  your  situation.  I  do  not 
propose  to  present  you  with  a  highly  effusive  opin- 
ion of  yourself  engraved  on  scented  note  paper  until 
you  have  made  good  by  your  own  acts,  since  you 
apparently  cannot  make  good  by  the  recommenda- 
tion of  others." 

Although  this  tranquil  statement  was  couched  in 

89 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

cutting  terms,  the  truth  of  it  was  obvious.  The  new 
bank  clerk  therefore  made  no  retort  courteous. 
But  he  had  little  love  in  his  heart  for  his  host  as 
he  went  to  join  the  two  ladies  in  the  hall.  He  was 
a  sensitive  person  and  not  accustomed  to  being 
prodded  all  over  in  vulnerable  points  by  a  person 
with  no  delicacy  of  feeling,  but  he  realized — or 
rather  he  was  beginning  to  realize — that  a  great 
part  of  this  earning  one's  living  was  in  restraining 
one's  pride  and  accepting,  without  reprisal,  the  un- 
smoothed  words  of  those  in  higher  places. 

It  was  with  this  distaste  of  the  man  that  he  stepped 
forward  to  greet  his  wife.  Then  the  old  question, 
the  very  old  question,  "  How  could  she  have  mar- 
ried the  man  ?  "  rose  in  his  mind.  She  was  young, 
graceful,  strikingly  handsome.  Rupert  was — well, 
he  really  was  nothing  very  reprehensible  as  far  as 
Morgan  knew,  but  Morgan  loathed  him.  So  he 
thought,  "  How  could  she  love  that  man  ?  " 

It  would  have  been  a  very  amusing  dinner  for 
him  if  he  could  have  projected  his  astral  self 
to  a  secluded  point  in  the  corner  of  the  room  and 
observed  the  conduct  of  the  four  people  at  the  table. 
There  was  no  doubt  in  the  world  that  the  women 

were  a  trifle  bewildered,  and  that  Mr.  Rupert  would 

90 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

also  have  been  bewildered,  had  bewilderment  been 
possible  in  his  mental  get-up.  But  he  never  ques- 
tioned the  infallibility  of  his  own  judgment,  which 
worked  instantly  in  all  cases  and,  having  once  crys- 
tallized, never  altered.  He  therefore  had  the  satis- 
faction of  viewing  always  an  orderly  world  classified 
properly  and  irrevocably  according  to  his  own  stand- 
ards. It  was  impossible  for  Mr.  Rupert  to  be  in 
doubt  about  anything. 

Mr.  Rupert's  version  of  the  situation  was  this, — 
Here  is  an  unknown  young  man  found  on  the 
beach,  coatless,  hatless,  shoeless,  telling  an  improb- 
able story,  having  no  friends.  Problem — What  was 
his  station  in  the  social  scale?  The  answer  was 
easy.  Well  born,  well  bred  people  with  savory  repu- 
tations do  not  fall  or  jump  off  steamboats  in  calm 
weather,  or  if  they  do  they  immediately  telegraph  to 
their  friends.  Mr.  Rupert  did  not  believe  Morgan 
had  committed  a  crime  or  misdemeanor.  He  classi- 
fied him  as  a  member  of  the  respectable  lower  middle 
class,  who  might  have  run  away  from  home,  or  a 
reform  school,  or  a  training  ship. 

He  rather  leaned  to  the  training  ship  idea. 
There  was  one  lying  in  Hampton  Roads  now ;  he 
had  seen  it  a  few  days  before  on  his  trip  to  Norfolk. 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Morgan  was  doubtless  being  taken  down  to  join  it 
there.  But  where  he  came  from  was  of  small  impor- 
tance. His  complacent  benefactor  was  well  assured 
of  the  respectable  middle  class  part  of  the  idea, 
whatever  the  attendant  circumstances.  Had  it  been 
proved  that  the  new  arrival  had  dropped  from  the 
moon  he  would  still  have  known  that  he  came  from 
middle  class  society  on  that  planet. 

That  having  been  proved,  it  was  highly  aristocratic 
and  philanthropic  and  altruistic  for  him  to  patronize 
the  boy  liberally  and  obtain  the  credit  of  having 
made  a  man  of  him.  Who  knows  ?  He  might  turn 
out  to  be  a  poet,  or  to  have  a  good  baritone  voice, 
or  perhaps  to  be  an  artist,  preferably  a  miniature 
painter.  Yes,  on  the  whole  he  would  like  best  of 
all  to  have  him  turn  out  to  be  a  miniature  painter, 
and  paint  portraits  of  beautiful  women  which  would 
sell  for  fabulous  prices.  He  determined  to  test  his 
ability  to  draw  at  the  first  opportunity. 

But  if  Mr.  Rupert's  view  of  the  situation  was  ab- 
solutely clear  cut  and  beyond  argument,  his  wife  had 
still  a  perfectly  open  mind  regarding  the  man  they 
had  picked  up.  Predisposed  as  she  was  to  regard 
him  in  the  same  light  as  she  would  any  unknown, 

all-clothed   person  who   came  to  her  kitchen  door 

92 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

asking  for  food,  the  transformation  worked  in  him 
by  the  new  clothes  aroused  her  lively  approval. 
The  first  glimpse  she  had  of  him  in  this  attire  was 
as  he  sat  on  the  porch  of  the  hotel.  She  had  recog- 
nized him  immediately.  It  was  an  absolutely  irre- 
pressible curiosity  that  made  her  call  to  him,  and 
have  him  come  out  in  full  view  where  she  could  have 
a  good  look  at  him  and  decide  whether  she  could  put 
the  seal  of  her  approbation  upon  him.  After  gazing 
upon  him  with  thorough  satisfaction  she  metaphoric- 
ally offered  the  seal,  and  had  it  been  a  tangible  thing 
Morgan  would  have  found  himself  wearing  a  whole 
row  of  them  across  his  coat.  That  was  the  way  she 
did  things.  She  was  either  tremendously  enthusiastic 
or  else  she  looked  on  with  supreme  indifference. 

She  watched  him,  completely  fascinated,  through 
the  dinner,  bewildered  at  his  unconsciousness.  The 
Ruperts'  house,  despite  the  aversion  of  its  mistress  to 
form  and  ostentation,  was,  by  reason  of  her  husband's 
insistance,  run  in  a  very  strict  and  formal  way. 
Everything  was  done  in  precisely  good  form.  The 
slightest  lapse  from  correctness  in  the  conduct  of  the 
house  was  not  tolerated  for  an  instant  by  its  head. 
No  one  but  a  servant  ever  opened  the  front  door  to 
a  guest.  Servants  lighted  the  lights  at  dusk,  turned 

93 


THE   MILLIONAIRE 

down  the  bed  covers  just  before  bedtime,  and 
kindled  fires  in  the  bedrooms  in  the  mornings.  The 
service  at  the  table  was,  on  all  occasions,  almost  as 
complete  as  at  a  formal  dinner.  There  were  numer- 
ous places  therefore  where  Morgan  might  have  made 
a  false  step  and  ruined  his  career. 

The  simple  fact  that  he  did  not  commit  errors 
would  have  made  no  impression  on  Mrs.  Rupert  at  all. 
It  was  the  ease  with  which  he  chose  the  channel  be- 
tween Scylla  and  Charybdis,  without  being  aware  of 
either,  that  fascinated  her.  It  brought  a  volume  of 
conjecture  to  her  inquiring  mind.  The  strangeness 
of  the  situation  held  her  quite  spellbound.  What 
was  the  history  of  this  man  ?  At  the  same  time  she 
wondered,  she  had  a  certain  very  decided  notion  that 
she  should  very  probably  not  find  out,  which  made 
the  whole  question  doubly  entertaining.  After  din- 
ner she  had  a  talk  with  him. 

"  I  have  just  about  decided  to  marry  you  to 
Lenore,"  she  observed. 

This  was  not  exactly  true.  She  had  not  just  about 
decided  to  marry  him  to  the  lady  in  question.  But 
she  wanted  an  intimate  subject  of  conversation  ;  and 
this  subject  seemed  fairly  intimate.  It  was  so  much 
so  that  it  fairly  took  his  breath  away. 

94 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Morgan  laughed. 

"  Let's  get  at  the  bottom  of  this,"  he  said.  "  Who 
is  Lenore  ?  " 

She  nodded  her  head  toward  Miss  Marshall. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'd  have  to  have  more  pedigree,  or 
something  of  that  sort,  wouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  How  much  pedigree,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  how  much  do  you  want  ?  " 

She  smiled  at  this  style  of  conversation. 

"  If  you  ask  me,"  she  said,  "  I  should  say  the  less 
the  better.  Red  blood  satisfies  me  better  than  the 
blue  variety,  anyway." 

"  What  put  this  big  idea  into  your  head  ? "  he 
asked  presently,  returning  to  her  first  subject 

"  Pure  inspiration,"  she  confessed.  And  then  the 
other  victim  of  her  idea  appeared  and  further  con- 
versation on  the  subject  was  impossible. 

However,  he  thought  about  it  with  great  interest 
as  he  walked  home.  The  humor  of  it  appealed  to 
him.  What  a  great  joke  was  possible  in  the  situa- 
tion,— to  be  sent  away  from  home  by  one  girl  in 
order  to  work  himself  up  to  a  suitable  pitch  of  per- 
fection, and  then,  this  having  been  accomplished,  to 
marry  another.  Of  course  it  was  hard  to  decide  at 

95 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

whose  expense  the  joke  would  be,  but  nevertheless  it 
would  be  real  humor. 

Arriving  at  the  hotel  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Made- 
leine, bringing  his  history  up  to  date,  and  telling  her 
about  the  new  idea.  It  started  out  very  jovially  and 
pleasantly,  telling  about  his  adventures  and  the 
queer  turn  life  had  taken,  but  as  he  worked  along 
through  it,  touching  at  every  turn  upon  things  of  her 
life  that  were  far  away  and  that  he  would  not  see  for 
nearly  four  hundred  days  just  as  long  as  the  one  he 
had  gone  through,  he  sank  further  and  further  into 
the  Slough  of  Despond,  until  at  last  he  was  so  over- 
whelmed with  loneliness  that  it  was  not  even  a  com- 
fort to  write  to  her.  So  he  stopped  the  letter 
abruptly  and,  taking  up  a  dismal  oil  lamp  covered 
with  stiff  dead  moths,  stumbled  up  the  stairs  to 
bed,  thoroughly  tired  of  earning  his  living. 


96 


CHAPTER  X 

A  WEEK  is  a  very  long  space  of  time.  A  week 
amid  unfamiliar  surroundings,  without  friends, 
at  strange  employment,  might  give  any  one  a  very 
fair  idea  of  what  is  meant  by  eons  of  time.  Morgan 
Holt  thought  it  would  never  pass  by.  After  an 
eternity  of  being  Tuesday,  it  was  still  Tuesday. 
And  at  noon  on  Wednesday,  when  it  seemed  as  if 
they  must  at  least  have  got  on  as  far  as  Thursday  or 
Friday,  it  was  still  just  Wednesday.  Nothing  is 
more  discouraging  than  watching  the  slow  proces- 
sion of  the  days  of  the  week,  when  they  will  not 
hasten  by,  and  there  is  nothing  to  look  forward  to 
when  they  have  hastened  by. 

Morgan's  week  had  been  made  more  dismal  by 
the  receipt  of  a  letter  from  Madeleine,  a  long,  happy, 
chatty  letter,  telling  him  everything  that  was  going 
on,  commiserating  with  him  on  his  loneliness  by  as- 
suring him  that  he  would  not  mind  it  so  much  after 
he  got  used  to  it.  It  was  a  most  discouraging  letter. 
It  was  too  happy.  But  why  shouldn't  she  be  happy  ? 
They  were  not  engaged.  He  had  thought  when  he 

97 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

first  saw  it  that  this  letter  would  surely  be  balm  for 
his  soul.  It  seemed  a  desecration  to  read  it  in  the 
bank.  He  had  put  it  in  his  pocket  and  kept  it  until 
night,  almost  contented  in  the  anticipation  of  it.  He 
felt  somehow  that  it  was  going  to  prove  to  be  a  mirac- 
ulous letter — a  letter  containing  the  atom  of  hap- 
piness. 

The  thing  he  expected,  in  his  mind  warped  with 
loneliness,  was  a  letter  no  girl  could  have  written. 
Only  the  Recording  Angel  himself,  with  his  vast 
knowledge  of  men  in  just  such  positions,  and  the 
facility  of  expression  born  of  long  practice  in  writing, 
could  have  penned  such  an  epistle.  He  found 
Madeleine's  letter  was  just  an  ordinary  letter,  written 
by  an  ordinary  human  girl,  setting  down  just  the 
thoughts  that  were  in  her  mind,  without  the  idea  of 
lifting  its  recipient  out  of  the  depths  of  his  despair. 
He  could  not  help  being  discouraged. 

Being  a  fifteen-dollar-a-week  clerk  in  a  very  small 
bank,  with  a  small,  exact,  precise  person — whose 
brain  was  adjusted  like  a  micrometer  screw  to  meas- 
ure hairs  and  fractions  of  hairs — to  minutely  super- 
vise his  work  and  minutely  lay  it  out  in  advance, 
was  no  cure  for  depression.  Peters,  the  receiving- 
teller,  paying-teller,  note  clerk  and  general  jackal 

98 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

for  Mr.  Rupert,  was  just  such  a  person.  Precision 
was  the  key-note  of  his  character.  He  arrived  at  the 
bank  at  exactly  a  quarter  past  eight  every  morning 
and  left  at  exactly  a  quarter  to  six.  It  was  a  glorious 
sight  to  see  the  little  gentleman  in  a  cutaway  coat 
riding  his  bicycle  very  precisely  down  the  street, 
each  stroke  on  the  pedals  taken  in  perfect  cadence, 
slow  time,  probably  coinciding — following  some  care- 
fully worked  out  system — with  every  third  or  every 
fourth  respiration.  What  would  have  happened  had 
something  got  in  his  way  and  made  him  go  faster  or 
slower,  is  not  known.  But  nothing  ever  did  get  in 
his  way.  The  whole  solar  system  seemed  to  recog- 
nize the  quality  of  his  precision  and  concede  that  he 
was  entitled  to  his  orbit,  for  nothing  ever  interrupted 
the  serene  regularity  of  his  ways. 

At  twelve  o'clock  noon,  Mr.  Peters  retired  to  the 
same  remote  corner  of  the  bank,  sat  in  the  same 
chair,  in  the  same  erect  position,  and  decorously 
consumed  a  luncheon,  consisting  eternally  of  one 
ham  sandwich,  one  jelly  sandwich,  two  small  pickles, 
and  a  raisin  pie.  He  contrived  to  do  this  with  a 
dignity  and  poise  that  would  have  done  credit  to 
Mr.  Rupert  sitting  at  the  head  of  his  own  table. 
This  accomplished,  he  picked  up  all  the  crumbs  and 

99 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

other  casual  debris  from  the  meal  and  deposited 
them  in  the  waste-basket,  carefully  saving  the  string 
the  package  had  been  tied  with  to  tie  the  package 
on  the  following  day.  He  then  removed  his  coat 
and,  taking  a  neat  little  whisk-broom  from  its  own 
identical  nail,  brushed  his  coat  and  suit  with  sharp, 
brisk  strokes,  inch  by  inch,  until  it  was  thoroughly 
clean.  Refreshed  in  this  manner,  he  was  then  ready 
to  resume  business  for  the  afternoon. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Morgan,"  he  would  say,  with  the  for- 
mality befitting  his  position,  "  perhaps  I  am  a  lit- tie 
particular  on  this  point,  but  I  prefer  to  have  the  fig- 
ure 4  made  with  the  strokes  meeting  at  the  top." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  returned  Morgan,  briskly. 

"  And  your  additions,"  pursued  the  other,  "  per- 
haps you  do  them  a  trifle  too  fast.  I  fear  for  their  ac- 
curacy. And  accuracy,  you  know,  in  a  bank  is  very 
essential — ver-y."  Mr.  Peters  shook  his  head  em- 
phatically. "  Now  observe.  You  add  up  the  first 
column  and  set  down  the  digit  to  be  carried  in  a 
legible  manner  just  below — thus.  I  note  that  you 
have  not  been  doing  this.  It  is  very  essential — 
ver-y.  It  assists  so  wonderfully  in  proving  your 
total." 

Now  Morgan  had  the  knack — or  the  gift — inherited 

IOO 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

from  his  father,  of  adding  up  a  column  of  three  or 
four  figures  in  one  operation.  To  people  who  add 
up  one  row  at  a  time,  it  is  a  very  wonderful  thing  ; 
but  it  is  really  not  difficult  if  a  person  has  concentra- 
tion enough  to  give  all  the  open  space  in  his  mind 
entirely  to  the  figures.  He  remembered  his  father's 
extreme  delight  when,  as  a  boy,  one  day  he  had 
shown  him,  with  conscious  pride,  his  new  accom- 
plishment. And  his  father  had  immediately  secured 
him  a  tutor  who  was  a  specialist  in  mathematics. 
With  him,  the  boy,  during  the  following  three  or  four 
years,  had  gone  deep  into  calculus  and  geometry  ; 
and  at  the  suggestion  of  his  father  (who  found  his 
own  ignorance  of  the  principles  which  governed  the 
operation  of  one-half  the  machines  and  devices  which 
had  been  mainly  instrumental  in  the  accumulation  of 
his  wealth,  disconcerting,  if  not  actually  a  handicap 
to  him)  they  studied  mechanics,  physics,  hydraulics, 
and  electricity.  The  boy  had  had  a  half-horse  power, 
single-phase  motor  in  his  workshop  in  the  house  and 
he  used  to  blow  out  the  fuses  and  leave  the  house  in 
darkness  regularly,  until  they  put  in  a  separate  wire 
for  him.  He  was  therefore  quite  at  home  with 
figures  and  mathematics  generally.  But  he  had 

never  explained  this  facility  to  Mr.  Peters,  as  it  had 

101 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

an  air  of  being  what  he  would  have  called  "  chesty." 
But  one  morning — it  happened  to  be  Saturday 
morning  at  the  end  of  the  interminable  week,  and 
the  thick  gloom  seemed  to  have  lifted  a  little — he 
felt  in  rather  a  pleasant  humor  and  casually  brought 
the  matter  to  the  little  gentleman's  attention. 

"  Ah/'  Mr.  Peters  had  been  saying,  holding  aloft 
an  admonishing  finger,  "  ah  !  What  have  I  been 
saying  about  setting  down  the  digit  you  are  going 
to  carry  ?  " 

"  But,  Mr.  Peters,"  returned  Morgan  on  this  occa- 
sion, "  I  never  know  what  it  is." 

Mr.  Peters  was  thoroughly  aghast. 

"  Not "  he  began,  amazed;  but  in  this  crisis 

words  failed  him. 

His  companion  copied  from  the  book  before  him 
the  amounts  of  some  one's  various  deposits  from  the 
date  his  passbook  had  last  been  balanced,  making  a 
column  of  some  twenty  items ;  and,  running  his 
pencil  slowly  down  it,  set  a  sum  at  the  end  of  it. 

"  I  wish  you  would  check  that,  please." 

The  little  man  elevated  his  chin  to  get  a  better 
view  of  the  paper  through  his  glasses,  and  painstak- 
ingly ran  his  pencil  down  the  column,  pausing  at 

each  figure  and  making  an  almost  inaudible  noise 

102 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

with  his  tongue  against  the  roof  of  his  mouth  as 
though  he  were  saying  numbers  over  to  himself. 
He  completed  the  operation,  passed  his  hand  be- 
wilderedly  over  the  hair  at  the  back  of  his  head  ;  and 
then,  without  a  word,  added  the  figures  up  all  over 
again.  Then  he  took  off  his  glasses  and  polished 
them  to  cover  his  extreme  agitation. 

"Well,  well,"  he  said,  at  length,  breathing  the 
words  rather  than  speaking  them.  "  Well,  well." 

He  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the  room,  his  hands 
thrust  under  the  tails  of  his  cutaway  coat  until  they 
stood  out  straight  behind  him.  Then,  sitting  down 
abruptly  at  his  desk,  he  proceeded  with  his  work. 

But  at  half-past  ten,  when  he  usually  stepped  over 
to  the  sink  to  wash  his  hands,  he  spoke  of  the  sub- 
ject. 

"  The  possession  by  some  persons  of  such  a  facil- 
ity with  figures,"  he  observed,  slowly,  "  is  a  fact  that 
has  been  brought  to  my  attention,  but  I  never  have 
actually  seen  it  demonstrated.  It  is  very  instruct- 
ive." 

He  dried  his  hands  to  the  finger-tips,  turned  down 
his  cuffs,  and,  opening  a  drawer,  took  out  a  small 
round  object,  about  twice  the  size  of  an  ordinary 
watch. 

103 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  I  sometimes  think,"  he  said,  in  explanation  of 
this  unbank-like  proceeding,  "  that  a  Ijttle  relaxation, 
of  not  more  than  five  minutes'  duration,  during  busi- 
ness hours,  is  beneficial.  Your  interest  in  mathe- 
matics will  make  this  little  instrument  a  pleasing  ob- 
ject to  you,  no  doubt." 

Morgan  took  it. 

"  It  is  an  aneroid  barometer,  isn't  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Ah  1  I  see  you  know.  Not  at  all  a  precise  in- 
strument, but  wonderfully  instructive — wonderfully 
instructive.  I  frequently  take  it  with  me  on  the  short 
bicycle  rides  I  indulge  in  on  Sundays,  in  order  that 
I  may  determine  the  elevation  of  the  ground — thus 
gauging,"  he  observed  with  a  little  touch  of  pride, 
"  my  prowess  as  a  cyclist." 

Morgan  did  not  smile. 

"That  is  always  a  fine  thing  to  know,"  he  said, 
gravely. 

"  I  find  out  what  the  barometer  registers  at  the 
high-water  mark  first.  You  will  observe  it  is 
graduated  in  multiples  of  feet.  It  is  said  the  in- 
strument will  not  register  differences  of  level  of  less 
than  twenty  feet,  but  I  can  notice  a  perceptible 
change  at  the  shore  of  the  bay  and  at  the  front  step 

of  the  bank,  which  is  officially  a  difference  of  only 

104 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

twelve  feet.  In  that  way  I  can  determine  the 
elevation  of  any  eminence  of  land  where  I  may 
be,  that  is,  within,  say,  fifteen  feet,  with  reference  to 
high  water." 

He  put  the  little  instrument  carefully  back  in  the 
drawer. 

"  Mr.  Peters,"  said  Morgan,  suddenly,  "  will  you 
lend  me  that  barometer?" 

"  I  should  be  pleased  to  do  so,"  observed  Mr. 
Peters,  a  little  doubtfully,  however,  as  he  had  never 
in  his  life  loaned  one  of  his  possessions  to  any  one. 

"  This  afternoon,  say,"  persisted  his  assistant. 

The  other  took  the  thing  out  of  the  drawer  with  a 
caressing  gesture. 

"  You  will,  of  course,  exercise  extreme  care  with 
it?"  he  asked. 

"  As  if  it  were  my  own  child." 

"  Very  well,  then.  I  will  give  it  to  you  when  you 
leave  for  the  day." 

But  the  little  man  seemed  depressed  all  the  rest 
of  the  morning,  and  when  he  turned  the  barometer 
over  to  Morgan  at  two  o'clock,  he  did  it  with  the 
air  of  an  intrepid  mariner  bidding  farewell  to  his 
aged  mother. 

The  day  was  one  of  those  clear  sunny  days  that 

105 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

happen  in  October,  when  the  sun  is  pleasantly  warm 
and  the  fallen  leaves  lie  still  on  the  ground,  and 
belated  flies  buzz  importantly  about,  as  if  possessed 
of  advance  information  that  this  year  there  are  to  be 
two  summers  in  succession.  A  good  part  of  the 
despondency  was  baked  out  of  Morgan  by  the  sun- 
light that  poured  in  the  banking  room  all  morning. 
And  when  finally  the  key  turned  in  the  bank  door, 
he  hastily  said  good-bye  to  Mr.  Peters  and  thrusting 
the  barometer  into  his  pocket  made  for  the  shore  as 
quickly  as  possible.  A  stake  there  marked  the  high- 
water  point.  He  held  the  barometer  there  and  made 
a  note  of  the  reading  that  would  have  done  credit 
to  the  precision  of  Mr.  Peters  himself. 

He  followed  the  path  he  and  Alexander  had  taken 
the  day  he  had  first  come  to  the  town.  It  was  a 
fine  walk  through  the  woods.  The  slanting  rays  of 
the  sun  shot  through  the  trees,  illuminating  the  un- 
expectedly brilliant  scarlet  of  the  dogwoods,  falling 
in  uneven  bright  patches  on  the  yellow  leaves  that 
strewed  the  path  and  rustled  pleasantly  underfoot. 
In  the  cleared  spots,  he  looked  up  at  the  expanse  of 
blue  sky,  where  very  high  above  the  trees  floated  a 
hawk,  and  made  no  motion  with  his  wings. 

His  mission  was  this.     It  was  evident,  from  the 

1 06 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

casual  conversation  he  had  heard,  that  it  was  the 
general  impression  that  the  swamp  could  not  be 
drained  as  a  whole,  but  that  a  portion  of  it  would 
have  to  be  drained  at  a  time  by  pumping  the  water 
from  that  portion  into  the  rest  of  the  swamp  and 
keeping  it  pumped  dry  until  the  timber  was  cut. 
This  would  indicate  that  it  was  believed  that  the 
water  in  the  swamp  was  either  the  same  as  sea 
level,  or  below  it.  Otherwise  it  could  be  drained  by 
cutting  a  channel  through  to  the  bay.  He  wished 
to  find  out  what  the  level  of  the  water  in  the  swamp 
actually  was. 

He  had  no  particular  reason  for  wishing  to  find 
this  out.  He  did  not  know  what  he  should  do  with 
such  a  piece  of  information  if  he  had  it.  It  was  just 
a  mild  curiosity,  backed  by  a  feeling  that  the  swamp 
must  be  higher  than  the  waters  of  the  bay.  And  to 
his  delight,  when  he  made  his  investigation,  with  the 
aid  of  the  aneroid  barometer,  he  found  this  was  in- 
deed true ! 

When  he  discovered  it,  he  was  hot  with  excite- 
ment, tempered  with  a  misgiving  as  to  the  accuracy 
of  the  barometer.  He  had  taken  the  little  instru- 
ment to  the  crest  of  the  rise  of  land  that  surrounded 

the  swamp  and  discovered  that  it  had  now  lowered 

107 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

perceptibly,  indicating  on  the  dial  a  rise  in  level 
of  somewhere  between  thirty-five  and  fifty  feet 
above  high-water  level.  He  then  went  down  to  the 
water  in  the  swamp  and  found  that  the  rise  of  the 
barometer  was  scarcely  noticeable.  This  would  indi- 
cate that  the  swamp  was  not  more  than  twenty  feet 
below.  If  the  crest  was,  as  the  barometer  showed, 
thirty-five  feet  above  high  water  and  the  swamp  was 
twenty  feet  below  the  crest,  then  the  swamp  must  be 
at  least  fifteen  feet  above  high  water. 

As  the  afternoon  was  beginning  to  wane,  he 
strolled  back  along  the  wooded  path,  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  absently  unaware  of  what  was  hap- 
pening around  him.  He  did  not  see  the  cottontailed 
rabbit  spring  up  suddenly  beside  the  road  and  make 
off  through  the  woods  with  great  high  bounds. 
He  did  not  look  out  through  the  trees  at  the  light  of 
the  afternoon  sun,  falling  slantwise  on  the  red  fallow 
land.  There  was  no  Slough  of  Despond  now.  He 
held  in  his  hand  now  the  key  to  something.  It 
might  turn  out  to  be  worthless,  and  it  might  turn 
out  to  be  all  important.  But  the  satisfactory  thing 
was  that  he  knew,  and  he  felt  he  was  the  only  one 
who  did  know. 


1 08 


CHAPTER  XI 

"  ^URELY,"  said  Miss  Marshall,  "you  are  going 

v-3  to  let  us  have  a  part  of  the  road." 

Morgan  started. 

"Just  a  little,"  added  Mrs.  Rupert,  "enough  so 
we  can  pass  by  in  single  file." 

The  young  man  began  to  laugh. 

"  I  was  thinking  about  great  big  things,"  he  said. 

"Just  what?" 

"  Spanish  castles,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Oh,  shame  for  being  so  far  behind  the  times. 
Spanish  castles  are  all  out  of  date." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  seconded  Miss  Marshall.  "Just 
like  hoop-skirts." 

"You  are  certain  of  this?"  he  demanded. 

"  Absolutely,"  they  affirmed  together. 

"  This  is  serious  business.  I  regret  to  hear  of  the 
falling  of  these  old  Spanish  castles  from  grace.  I 
had  just  built  a  fine  one,  in  the  past  quarter  of  an 
hour,  of  the  most  approved  modern  fire-proof,  rein- 
forced-concrete  type,  steam  heat,  five  bath-rooms, 

hot  and  cold  water,  electric  curling  irons,  and  swim- 

109 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

ming  pool  in  the  basement.  If  you  say  they  are 
not  de  rigeur,  however,  I  certainly  shall  have  to 
sell  it." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Miss  Marshall,  "give  it  to  me." 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  returned,  firmly.  "  I  scent  a 
bear  market.  You  are  endeavoring  to  lower  quota- 
tions on  Spanish  castles  to  such  a  point  that  I  shall 
give  them  away." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Mrs.  Rupert.  "  This  castle. 
What  does  it  mean  ?  Are  you  going  to  be  rich  ?  " 

"  Not  unduly." 

"Are  you  in  love?" 

He  began  to  laugh. 

"  That  is  one  of  the  questions  we  answer  only  by 
mail,  if  you  send  a  stamped  and  addressed  envelope." 

"  I  shall  certainly  do  it." 

"  And  he  won't  tell  you  a  thing,"  observed  Miss 
Marshall. 

"Oh,  yes,  he  will.  I've  taken  his  destiny  in 
hand.  He  hesitates  to  tell  me  when  you  yourself 
are  present,"  she  added  mischievously. 

The  color  mounted  in  the  girl's  cheeks. 

"You  are  very  bold,  Barbara  Rupert,"  she  pro- 
tested. 

Mrs.  Rupert  changed  the  subject  quickly. 

no 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"A  pertinent  question,"  she  said  to  Morgan. 
"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  Home,  but  I  have  a  thousand  hours  to  get  there," 
he  replied. 

This  was  pure  exaggeration. 

"  Why  not  come  with  us  ?  " 

"  All  right.     Where  are  we  going  ?  " 

"  We  are  taking  some  chicken  broth  and  some 
jelly  to  poor  old  Alexander  Berry." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Morgan,  "  Alexander !  I  know 
all  about  him." 

"  You  do  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Rupert,  a  little  surprised. 

"  Old  friend  of  mine.     Is  he  ill  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  has  just  had  another  '  spell.'  He  catches 
a  new  cold  every  month  or  so,  and  he  has  a  very 
hard  time  living  all  alone  out  here,  with  no  one  to 
take  care  of  him." 

"  I  certainly  want  to  go,"  said  Morgan. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  further  up  the  road  they 
came  presently  upon  the  house  where  the  sick  man 
lived.  It  was  set  back  from  the  road  under  the 
shelter  of  six  or  eight  great  oak  trees,  which  towered 
above  the  stone  house.  They  walked  across  the 
unkempt  space  that  might  have  been  called  the 

lawn,  on  a  path  of  wide  flat  stepping-stones  set  in 

in 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

the  ground.  The  place  had  an  unambitious,  uncer- 
tain aspect,  such  as  you  might  expect  of  the  house 
where  Alexander  lived. 

They  found  him  sitting  on  the  front  porch  of  the 
house,  bundled  up  in  a  greatcoat,  his  eyes  bright 
with  fever.  He  rose  to  his  feet  when  he  saw  them, 
and  walked  unsteadily  down  the  steps  to  greet  them. 

"  I  sho'  am  glad  to  see  you  all,"  he  said. 

"  Dr.  Torrey  says  you've  been  sick." 

"  Yes'm.  I'm  right  po'ly."  He  began  to  cough 
and  drew  his  coat  around  him  closely,  as  though  he 
were  cold.  "  Come  up  and  set  down,"  he  said. 
"  Set  right  down." 

"Why  aren't  you  in  bed,"  demanded  Mrs.  Ru- 
pert, "  instead  of  sitting  up  here  trying  to  pretend 
you're  well  ?  " 

"  I  jest  had  to  feed  the  chickens.  I  did  so.  I  was 
layin'  in  there  on  the  bed,  listenin'  to  them  patter, 
patter  acrost  the  po'ch,  knowin'  they  hadn't  had 
nothin'  to  eat  since  yeste'day.  So  fin'ly  I  couldn't 
stand  it  no  longer,  and  I  jes'  had  to  step  out  and 
feed  them.  And,  my,  but  they  was  glad  to  see  me ! " 

"  You  must  go  right  back  to  bed  again,"  said  Mrs. 
Rupert,  firmly. 

"  Yes'm.     I    was   expectin'    to.      Sometimes,"  he 

112 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

said,  "  I'm  a-burnin'  up,  I'm  so  hot,  and  sometimes 
I'm  a-shiverin'  with  the  cold." 

"  Did  Dr.  Torrey  leave  you  some  medicine? " 

"  Yes'm.  But  Mis'  Rupert,  it's  such  thin  stuff,  jes' 
like  water.  I  don't  believe  Doc  Torrey  is  the  same 
doctor  like  he  used  to  be.  He  used  to  leave  me 
strong  medicines,  and,  my,  but  they  was  bitter ! 
They  did  me  real  good.  But  I  don't  set  no  store  by 
these  sweetish  medicines.  They  don't  seem  to  take 
hold.  Ain't  that  so,  sir  ?  "  he  said,  turning  to  Mor- 
gan. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Morgan,  with  some  perspicuity, 
"  that  is  because  you  don't  take  the  medicine." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  took  a  little  of  it,"  insisted  the  other, 
stoutly.  "  But  it  seemed  like  I  might  jes'  as  well 
take  a  cup  of  water  outen  of  the  well.  Yes,  sir. 
That's  the  way  it  looked  to  me." 

Morgan  laughed. 

"  Come  with  me  and  go  to  bed,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Rupert  touched  him  on  the  arm. 

"  A  hot  mustard  foot  bath  is  the  best  thing  on  such 
an  occasion." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Morgan,  "  if  you  will  get  it 
ready,  I  will  give  it  to  him,  at  the  point  of  a  shot- 
gun, if  necessary." 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  the  invalid  had 
taken  his  medicine  and  his  foot  bath  and  was  sound 
asleep  in  bed. 

"  If  you  think  you  can  both  get  home  before  dark," 
Morgan  told  the  two  ladies,  "  I  believe  I  shall  stay 
here  with  him." 

"  There  is  no  use  in  staying  here." 

"  Well,  he's  ill.  And  when  you're  ill,  you're 
lonely.  And  there's  nothing  worse  than  being 
lonely." 

Mrs.  Rupert  looked  at  him  with  a  glance  of  un- 
derstanding. 

"Very  well,"  she  said. 

He  walked  with  them  as  far  as  the  village,  where 
they  found  their  automobile,  waiting  to  meet  a  busi- 
ness acquaintance  of  Mr.  Rupert's,  who  was  coming 
over  on  the  mail  stage  that  arrived  every  evening  at 
half-past  five  from  the  railroad  fifteen  miles  away. 

When  he  returned  to  Berry's  house,  it  was  dark. 
He  stumbled  about  in  the  hallway  until  he  found 
lamps  and  lighted  them.  In  the  kitchen,  he  dis- 
covered a  lantern,  which  he  lighted  and  took  du- 
biously out  into  the  night  with  the  idea  of  locking 
up  the  chickens  and  whatever  other  living  things 

there  might  be.     He  closed  the  door  to  the  chicken 

114 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

house.  But  when  he  entered  the  little  stable,  he 
found  it  entirely  deserted,  with  no  signs  of  any 
living  thing  having  been  there  lately.  On  his  way 
back  to  the  house,  he  gathered  up  an  armful  of 
wood  and,  making  a  cheerful  fire  in  the  fireplace  of 
the  low-ceilinged  living-room,  sat  down  patiently 
before  it  and  industriously  read  the  contents  of  the 
Farmer's  Companion  from  cover  to  cover,  including 
the  poetry.  All  this  while  the  sick  man  slept,  his 
deep  breathing  audible  all  over  the  still  house. 

The  silence  at  length  began  to  wear  a  little  on  his 
nerves.  Absolute  stillness  is  a  strange  thing.  We 
are  so  used  to  sounds  about  us  :  the  rattle  of  wheels 
on  the  road  or  street  outside,  the  noise  of  water  run- 
ning in  the  pipes,  the  voice  of  some  one  singing,  the 
distant  rumble  of  a  train,  and  all  the  sounds  that 
reassure  us  of  the  presence  of  other  human  beings, 
that  we  do  not  realize  that  they  mean  anything  to 
us.  But  when  they  are  removed,  it  seems  as  if  one 
must  be  the  only  inhabitant  of  the  whole  world. 
Morgan  found  himself,  when  at  length  he  had 
exhausted  the  contents  of  the  Farmer's  Companion 
and  left  his  place  by  the  fire  with  an  idea  of  getting 
something  to  eat,  unconsciously  tiptoeing  about,  al- 
most deafened  by  the  sound  of  his  own  footsteps. 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  discovered  very  little  in  the  way  of  provisions 
in  the  house,  however.  Berry  had  evidently  been 
living  for  the  whole  week  on  the  ham  and  the  flour 
he  had  brought  home  with  Morgan's  help,  eked  out 
by  a  few  potatoes.  The  shelves  in  the  pantry  were 
almost  entirely  empty.  There  was  about  a  cupful  of 
sugar  in  the  bottom  of  a  small  bag  ;  a  tin  canister  in 
which  there  was  still  the  odor  of  coffee,  but  nothing 
else.  The  lard  can  contained  only  a  mouse,  which 
scrambled  out  when  he  lifted  the  lid,  He  found  a 
small  quantity  of  salt. 

He  wondered  how  it  was  possible  to  live  on  such 
a  meager  store.  At  length,  having  a  healthy  ap- 
petite, stimulated  by  his  exercise  during  the  after- 
noon, he  found  he  could  stand  his  hunger  no  longer 
and  decided  to  go  down  to  the  village  to  get  food. 
His  patient  was  still  sleeping  soundly  and,  being 
thoroughly  exhausted,  would  sleep  until  he  returned, 
and  doubtless  a  good  while  longer. 

He  therefore  covered  the  fire  with  wood  ashes, 
saw  that  all  the  doors  and  windows  were  locked  and, 
turning  low  the  lamp  in  the  living-room,  took  the 
lantern  with  him  and  left  the  house.  At  the  end  of 
the  path,  however,  he  met  John  Anderson,  the 

proprietor  of  the  hotel. 

116 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Is  old  Alexander  very  sick  ?  "  Anderson  asked, 
surprised  at  seeing  Morgan. 

The  latter  nodded. 

"  Has  a  high  fever.  But  he  is  sleeping  it  off  now. 
I  am  going  after  food." 

"  Very  good,"  returned  the  hotel-keeper.  "  I  will 
stay  until  you  come  back." 

Morgan  bought  out  the  store — nearly.  On  his 
way  to  the  village  he  had  made  out  a  list  of  things 
that  were  necessary — not  for  that  night  only — but  to 
fit  out  the  pantry  properly.  He  had  in  his  pocket 
fifteen  dollars,  his  weekly  salary.  It  did  not  surprise 
him  to  find  that  the  bill  for  what  he  purchased  came 
to  ten  dollars  and  eighty  cents.  His  spirit  was  not 
cramped  and  overawed  by  the  bugaboo  of  economy. 
His  training  naturally  had  made  him  oblivious  of 
the  fact  that  economy  extended  to  such  small  sums 
of  money  as  ten  or  twenty  dollars.  The  only  real 
idea  of  economy  his  father  had  instilled  into  him  was 
not  to  spend  any  money  at  all  unless  it  was  neces- 
sary. In  this  case,  it  was  clearly  necessary,  so  he 
passed  over  his  three  five  dollar  bills  and,  thrusting 
the  change  contentedly  in  a  wad  into  his  trousers 
pocket,  rode  back  to  the  house  in  the  grocer's 

delivery  wagon  ;  which,  by  virtue  of  its  being  Satur- 

117 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

day  evening  and  the  purchase  being  a  large  one, 
was  allowed  to  deliver  things  at  that  hour. 

It  took  John  Anderson  and  the  boy  and  himself 
nearly  five  minutes  to  unload  the  wagon  when  they 
got  there.  Anderson  was  considerably  impressed. 
He  felt  that  this  young  man  must  be  a  person  of 
much  more  importance  than  he  had  at  first  imagined. 
Perhaps  he  was  a  business  man  who  had  heard  of 
the  probable  boom  of  Prince  Charles  and  might  be 
considering  the  feasibility  of  building  a  factory 
(Anderson  felt  that  the  first  sign  of  prosperity  in  a 
town  was  the  erection  of  a  factory)  or  extending  a 
branch  over  from  the  main  line  of  the  railroad. 

Morgan  was  in  high  spirits. 

"  You  haven't  had  dinner,  have  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  other  admitted  he  had  not,  but  insisted  that  it 
was  waiting  for  him  at  that  moment  at  home. 

"  Oh,  pshaw,"  cried  the  young  man,  "  don't  go  to 
a  hotel  when  you  have  a  chance  of  trying  home 
cooking." 

Whether  this  reasoning  appealed  to  the  hotel- 
keeper  or  not,  he  stayed,  and  between  them,  they 
prepared  a  most  nutritious  and  appetizing  meal. 
Morgan,  who  had  been  hunting  with  his  father  on 

one  or  two  occasions  and  had  helped  the  guides  with 

118 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

the  meals,  knew  how  to  prepare  one  or  two  things  ; 
and  Anderson,  being  a  hotel-keeper,  had  a  rudi- 
mentary idea  of  cooking.  They  created,  therefore, 
a  wonderful  meal,  which  to  their  unprejudiced  minds 
was  the  best  thing  of  its  kind  they  had  ever  eaten. 
The  fire  roared  in  the  dining-room  fireplace.  The 
meat  and  the  vegetables  and  the  incredible  gravy 
sat  in  the  utensils  in  which  they  had  been  cooked. 
The  coffee-pot  nestled  steaming  against  the  and- 
irons. No  count  was  kept  of  the  times  one  or  the 
other  of  them  rose  from  the  table  and,  carrying 
a  skillet  by  the  handle  enswathed  in  his  handker- 
chief, joyfully  replenished  the  plates.  And  when 
at  length  they  moved  back  their  chairs,  and  sur- 
veyed the  havoc  they  had  made,  they  felt  wondrously 
content. 

"  Mr.  Morgan,"  said  Anderson,  at  length,  through 
the  clouds  of  smoke  from  his  pipe,  "  you  are  a  city 
man  and  a  little  more  versed  in  the  ways  of  business 
than  I  am,  so  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question." 

Morgan  did  not  feel  that  that  description  of  him 
was  very  accurate,  but  nevertheless  he  said  he  would 
do  his  best  to  answer  the  question. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  went  on  the  other,  "  it's  about 

this  cypress  business." 

119 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  What's  happened  now  ? "  asked  Morgan, 
quietly. 

"  Why,  I'll  be  blowed  if  they  haven't  got  out  an- 
other issue  of  bonds." 

"  Another  issue  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  you  could  say  it  was  an- 
other issue  either.  It  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  substi- 
tute." 

"  I  don't  understand  you." 

"  It's  like  this.  All  of  us,  you  see,  have  got  first- 
mortgage  bonds  bearing  six  per  cent." 

"  Yes.     You  told  me  that." 

"  And  now  the  company  sends  out  this  circular 
saying  that  they  haven't  quite  enough  money  to  start 
cutting  the  timber  in  the  proper  manner  and  it  is  to 
the  interest  of  all  the  bond-holders  to  cooperate  with 
the  company  in  its  endeavor  to  obtain  more  funds  in 
order  that  the  cutting  may  be  started  at  the  earliest 
possible  moment.  I  almost  have  the  words  by  heart, 
I  read  it  so  often." 

"  It  sounds  like  a  circular  to  bond-holders," 
observed  Morgan,  whose  mail  had  been  full  of  such 
things. 

"  And  the  method  they  propose  to  get  the  money 

by  is  this  :  they  are  going  to  issue  second-mortgage 

1 20 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

bonds  paying  eight  per  cent.,  secured  by  the  plant  and 
improvements." 

"  Which  don't  exist." 

"  But  they  will.  These  fellows  have  got  too  much 
money  in  the  venture  to  draw  back  now." 

"  Perhaps  so.     Go  on." 

"  Well,  they  offer  to  exchange  second-mortgage 
bonds  bearing  eight  per  cent,  for  our  first-mortgage 
bonds,  bearing  only  six  per  cent.,  you  understand, 
without  any  additional  cost.  Now  that  certainly 
seems  liberal." 

"  Why  do  they  wish  to  do  that?" 

"  Their  idea  is  to  have  the  first-mortgage  bonds 
which,  they  say,  are  gilt-edged  security,  and  as  good 
as  bank  notes  anywhere,  in  reserve,  so  that  they  may 
realize  on  them  quickly  in  case  of  need.  They  say 
they  will  probably  not  have  to  use  more  than  a  quar- 
ter of  the  issue  this  way." 

"  Probably  ?  "  asked  Morgan. 

"  Yes.  And  they  will  not  sell  the  second-mort- 
gage bonds.  They  are  only  given  in  exchange.  It 
seems  like  a  good  opportunity  for  me  to  get  eight 
per  cent,  on  my  money.  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

Morgan  moved  his  chair  over  to  the  fire. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  cautiously.     "  My 

121 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

father  used  to  say  that  money  was  not  worth  eight 
per  cent.  If  any  one  has  good  security,  he  can  get 
all  the  money  he  wants  for  six  per  cent." 

"  Then  you  wouldn't  exchange  ?  " 

"  /  wouldn't." 

He  was  silent  for  some  time.  He  wondered  what 
made  the  backers  of  the  cypress  deal,  instead  of 
starting  to  cut  timber  with  the  forty  thousand  dollars 
they  were  supposed  to  have,  descend  instead  to 
manipulation  of  their  bond  issues.  He  felt  that  his 
father,  if  alive,  could  have  put  his  finger  on  the 
probable  reason.  But,  following  the  line  of  reason- 
ing he  knew  his  father  would  have  adopted,  it  was 
evident  to  him  that  there  was  something  crooked  in 
the  cypress  transaction  somewhere. 


122 


CHAPTER  XII 

ON  the  following  morning,  Morgan  Holt,  awaken- 
ing in  his  chintz-curtained  bedroom  at  Miss 
Torrey's,  had  a  new  experience  in  life,  that  is,  his 
first  participation  in  a  real  Sunday  morning — a  morn- 
ing when  one  could  lie  in  bed  and  not  be  compelled 
to  tumble  out  hastily,  dress,  bathe,  and  shave  with 
his  eye  on  his  watch,  eat  breakfast  in  just  about  five 
minutes  less  time  than  he  would  like  to  have  had, 
and  hurry  down  the  street  on  a  dog-trot  in  order  not 
to  be  late.  This  morning  he  tasted  of  the  luxurious 
delight  of  lying  abed,  comfortable,  unhurried,  con- 
tented, watching  the  sunshine  pouring  in  his  window 
and  the  robin  hopping  companionably  on  the  win- 
dow sill. 

Morgan's  room  was  neater  than  a  new  pin.  The 
scarf  on  the  bureau  was  stiffly  snow-white  and  set 
with  its  edge  precisely  parallel  with  the  edge  of  the 
bureau.  The  quaint  rag  rug  that  reinforced  the 
carpet  before  the  bureau  was  also  set  parallel  with 

the  bureau.     Morgan   knew  these  things  because 

123 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

when  he,  unconsciously,  with  his  profane  hands  or 
feet,  deranged  them,  he  would  find  a  note  from  Miss 
Torrey  on  his  pincushion  in  the  evening  calling  his 
attention,  in  hurt  surprise,  to  his  misdemeanor.  On 
a  little  table  beside  the  bureau  was  a  newspaper 
covering,  neatly  scalloped,  on  which,  and  on  no  other 
object,  the  lamp  was  supposed  to  rest.  Putting  it 
on  the  bureau  scarf  brought  forth  a  very  long  note 
indeed.  The  chintz  curtains  that  draped  the  windows 
were  very  prim.  Beside  them  were  two  permanent 
inscriptions.  One  said  :  "  Please  put  curtains  over 
a  chair  when  the  window  is  open."  The  message  of 
the  other  was  :  "  Lower  the  shades  when  dressing." 
As  this  last  was  in  the  room  when  he  came  into  it, 
he  felt  that  it  was  meant  as  a  preventative. 

It  seemed  to  Morgan  that  the  whole  house  was 
annotated.  The  rubrics  in  the  bath  room  called 
attention  to  the  fact  that  a  certain  little  brush  was 
meant  for  purifying  the  bath-tub  after  use  and 
should  be  returned  to  its  place  when  it  had  served 
its  purpose ;  that  certain  soap  was  to  be  used  for 
bathing  and  certain  other  at  the  washstand  only  ; 
care  was  to  be  taken  not  to  splash  water  on  the 
piece  of  starched  linen  that  was  hung  up  to  keep 

water   from   being   splashed   on  the  wall ;    and  so 

124 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

forth  indefinitely — a  new  by-law  springing  into  ex- 
istence every  day. 

All  these  things  were  a  great  joy  to  Morgan  and 
he  obeyed  the  rules  implicitly — when  he  was  not  in 

a  hurry But  one  lapse  ended  all  the  good  of 

many  days  of  observance  in  Miss  Torrey's  eyes,  so 
that  he  was  constantly  compelling  the  little  lady  to 
make  things  more  and  more  Morgan-proof. 

When  the  clock  down-stairs  struck  eight,  he  got 
up.  He  had  had  a  good  night's  rest.  At  ten  o'clock 
the  night  before,  Alexander  Berry  had  awakened — 
cheerful,  his  temperature  normal  (as  Morgan  had 
ascertained  by  the  clinical  thermometer  he  had  pur- 
chased at  the  village  drug  store)  and  very  hungry. 
They  gave  him  the  chicken  broth  Mrs.  Rupert  had 
brought  him,  prevented  him  forcibly  from  going  into 
a  dissertation  on  how  to  get  a  crop  of  strawberries 
the  first  year,  and  put  him  back  to  sleep  again.  As 
Anderson  announced  his  intention  of  staying  all 
night  and  there  did  not  appear  to  be  bedclothes 
enough  to  make  it  advisable  for  them  both  to  stay, 
Morgan  had  come  home,  doubtless  shocking  Miss 
Torrey  dreadfully  by  the  lateness  of  his  returning, 
that  lady,  in  common  with  the  rest  of  the  village, 

being  very  much  asleep  by  nine  o'clock. 

125 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Miss  Torrey  was  as  exceedingly  prim  and  exact 
in  her  own  appearance  as  was  her  house.  Nothing 
was  left  to  chance.  Her  thin  gray  hair  was  brushed 
taut  and  flat  across  her  high  aristocratic  forehead. 
She  wore  a  white  lace  shawl  over  her  thin  shoulders, 
pinned  everlastingly  flat  in  its  place.  An  old-fash- 
ioned black  brooch  caught  the  points  of  it.  Her 
dress  was  always  black,  with  no  tucks  or  plaits. 
Her  thin  lips  met  in  a  straight  line  that  a  portrait 
painter  might  have  drawn  with  the  aid  of  a  straight- 
edge. She  talked  all  the  time,  freeing  to  the  air  all 
the  random  thoughts  that  generated  in  her  active 
little  head.  She  was  sensitive  as  a  child  and  was 
hurt  to  the  very  quick  if  any  one  disagreed  with  her, 
or  seemed  to  disregard  her. 

"  I  should  have  preferred  to  have  you  send  me 
word  if  you  were  going  to  be  late  last  night,"  she 
said  to  Morgan  when  he  came  down  to  breakfast — 
not  that  it  would  have  been  information  to  her,  as  she 
had  discovered,  as  she  discovered  everything  that 
went  on  in  the  village,  just  where  he  was  and  why. 
"  Of  course,  I  wouldn't  be  unreasonable.  I  always 
endeavor  not  to  be  unreasonable.  But  just  a  word 
would  have  been  sufficient  You  needn't  have  come 

all  the  way  here.     You  could  have  come  to  the  other 

126 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

end  of  the  village  and  telephoned  from  the  mill.  And 
poor  Mr.  Berry,  how  is  he  ?  I  know  he  must  be  better, 
though,  or  you  wouldn't  have  come  home.  I  left 
the  door  on  the  latch  for  you,  and  I  was  distressed 

— for  fear,  you  know They  say  every  one  in 

Prince  Charles  is  honest,  but  I  don't  trust  them. 
Not  I.  Poor  Mr.  Berry.  Such  poor  health.  If 
he  could  only  get  away  from  this  climate.  That's 
what  I  say.  If  he  could  only  get  away.  Don't  you 
think  so,  James  ?  He's  ill  so  much.  What  do  you 
think  ?  " 

There  always  came  a  point  in  the  good  little 
lady's  monologue  when  she  ran  out  of  breath,  or 
feared  every  one  had  forgotten  she  was  still  talking. 
Then  she  would  pause  to  see  if  any  one  would  an- 
swer her  question.  Her  brother  looked  up  from  the 
paper  beside  his  plate. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  vaguely. 

"  Has  he  consumption  ?  "  Morgan  asked. 

"  Yes.  Far  gone,"  returned  the  doctor.  "  Try  to 
get  him  to  go  out  to  his  brother's  in  Arizona.  But 
it  seems  he'd  rather  die  here  than  live  anywhere 
else." 

"  Now  isn't  that  pathetic?  "  pattered  Miss  Torrey. 

"  Rather  die   here  than   live   anywhere  else.     But 

127 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

that's  the  way  of  the  world.  Home,  you  know.  I 
couldn't  live  anywhere  else.  James  couldn't,  I 
know.  Could  you,  James  ?  I  know  he  just 
couldn't " 

"  That's  nonsense,  Cordelia,"  put  in  the  doctor, 
unfeelingly,  answering  a  question  in  the  middle  of 
her  speech.  "  I  could  live  somewhere  else,  and 
what's  more,  I  think  I  will  live  somewhere  else,  if 
all  this  talk  about  bonds  and  high  finance  doesn't 
soon  let  up.  Man  last  night,  throat  so  bad  he 
couldn't  speak  above  a  whisper,  talked  to  me  half 
an  hour  about  second-mortgage  bonds.  Everybody 
is  going  to  get  rich.  If  things  don't  calm  down 
soon,  Mr.  Morgan,  I  think  I  shall  have  to  have 
printed  on  my  letter-heads  that  conversation  about 
cypress  trees  will  be  charged  for  at  regular  rates  by 
the  hour." 

"  Was  the  man  going  to  exchange  his  bonds  ?  " 

"  Going  to !  He  did  it  by  return  mail.  All  he 
was  worrying  about  was  whether  the  company  had 
not  made  a  mistake  and  would  rescind  the  offer." 

Morgan  was  interested. 

"  Many  like  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Many.     Scores  of  them.     This  community  is  so 

calmly  trustful   and   optimistic  that  it's   a  positive 

128 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

fault.  They  will  have  to  answer  for  it  on  the  Judg- 
ment Day.  They  believe  whatever  you  tell  'em." 

Miss  Torrey  sighed. 

"  That's  what  I've  always  said.  No  judgment, 
you  know.  Flighty.  Poor  people.  What  will  be- 
come of  them  ?  And  the  worst  of  it  is,"  she  said, 
lowering  her  voice  to  a  confidential  whisper,  "  they 
haven't  the  money  to  lose.  No,  indeed.  So  trust- 
ful. Just  as  brother  James  says,  it's  a  positive  fault. 
But  I'd  hate  to  think  they  would  have  to  answer  for 
it  on  the  Judgment  Day.  You  didn't  really  mean 
that,  did  you,  James  ?  No,  I  think  that  was  just  your 
joke." 

But  whether  or  not  their  trustfulness  was  a  fault 
answerable  on  the  day  when  the  last  trumpet  is 
blown,  Morgan  felt  sure,  from  his  short  observation 
and  the  stories  he  heard,  that  it  was  just  the  sort  of 
community  to  bring  joy  to  the  heart  of  any  set  of 
men  bent  on  speculation.  Whether  the  gentlemen 
up  North  who  had  joined  with  Mr.  Rupert  in  the 
exploitation  of  the  timber  were  the  sort  of  men  who 
were  desirous  of  mulcting  the  people  who  had  pur- 
chased bonds  or  not,  he  did  not  know,  but  he  felt  as- 
sured of  the  fact  that  if  they  were,  there  was  nothing 

in  the  world  to  prevent  them  from  succeeding. 

129 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

The  community  of  Prince  Charles  had  grown  up 
under  unusual  conditions.  Lying  on  a  piece  of  level 
ground  between  Chesapeake  Bay  on  the  one  side 
and  the  cypress  swamp  on  the  other,  it  was  cut  off 
from  natural  communication  with  the  rest  of  the 
world.  The  people  in  the  town  did  not  hear  of  the 
battle  of  Lexington  until  nearly  seventeen-seventy- 
seven.  During  the  colonial  days,  it  was  a  thriving, 
prosperous  place,  but  their  only  news  came  when 
the  schooner  from  Baltimore  stopped  there  every 
second  month  bringing  provisions  and  taking  away 
flour  and  corn-meal  from  the  mill,  and  beeves  and 
hams  and  bacons  from  the  farmers. 

Nearly  a  hundred  years  before  the  battle  of 
Lexington,  during  the  declining  days  of  the  reign  of 
King  James  the  Second,  when  the  advent  of  William 
and  Mary  seemed  inevitable,  a  certain  band  of 
Royalists,  who,  as  young  men,  had  supported  the 
cause  of  Charles  the  Martyr  (as  they  called  him)  and 
saw  in  James  the  end  of  the  house  of  Stuart,  decided 
that  they  were  too  old  to  longer  fight  for  the  lost 
cause,  and  that  all  they  wished  was  to  end  their  days 
in  peace  and  tranquillity  far  away  from  the  strife  that 
had  occupied  them  all  their  lives.  So  they  prevailed 

on  the  second  James,  in  return  for  their  years  of 

130 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

loyalty,  to  mark  on  the  map  of  Virginia  a  strip  of 
land  fifteen  miles  wide  extending  from  the  Chesapeake 
Bay  to  the  Pacific  Ocean,  which,  with  fine  generosity, 
he  granted  to  them  in  perpetuity. 

They  were  able  to  use,  however,  only  about  fifty 
square  miles,  which  was  the  land  embraced  between 
the  bay  and  the  swamp  and  the  high  hills  to  the 
north.  This  kept  them  safe  from  the  Indians  and  out 
of  touch  with  the  other  colonists,  and  they  grew  up 
after  their  own  fashion.  They  married  the  daughters 
of  their  neighbors  and  in  the  course  of  a  hundred 
years  called  every  second  person  they  met  on  the 
road  cousin.  They  knew  the  intimate  affairs  of 
every  one  else  and  loaned  money  on  the  security  of  a 
man's  word.  They  were  never  poor,  and  the  accu- 
mulation of  money  never  seemed  important  enough 
to  them  to  be  worth  bargaining  with  a  neighbor  for. 

When  the  Civil  War  closed,  they  were  still  almost 
prosperous,  and  twenty  of  the  prominent  men,  then 
young,  in  order  to  conserve  their  resources  and  en- 
courage thrift  among  the  farmers,  had  established  a 
purely  philanthropic  savings  bank.  It  was  open  one 
day  a  week,  and  the  directors  took  their  turns  at 
being  tellers  on  that  day.  No  money  was  made  at 
all  in  this  venture,  nor  intended  to  be.  They  paid 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

four  per  cent,  interest  on  savings,  and  loaned  money 
out  in  mortgages  on  places  where  it  would  do  most 
good. 

The  bank  of  which  Mr.  Rupert  was  cashier  was 
the  continuance  of  this  same  institution.  The  twenty 
men  were  now  old  men.  Vacancies  by  death  had 
been  filled  by  their  electing  their  own  contemporaries, 
as  they  hesitated  to  take  a  younger  man  into  the 
organization  which  had  so  many  traditions  of  their 
own  youth.  But  they  were  unable  to  take  their 
turns  and  transact  now  the  great  volume  of  business 
at  the  bank,  which  continued  every  day  in  the  week. 
They  therefore  had  made  cashier  this  young  man 
who,  appearing  one  summer  from  New  England,  had 
made  a  wonderful  impression  on  every  one  by  his 
pleasing  manners  and  evident  knowledge  of  the 
world.  He  was  considered  a  great  catch,  and  old 
Mr.  Dercum,  who  at  last  succeeded  in  getting  his 
daughter  to  marry  him,  was  widely  congratulated  on 
his  good  fortune.  This  was  another  instance  of  the 
trustfulness  of  every  one,  for  the  bank  was  now  run  to 
suit  the  pleasure  of  Joseph  Rupert,  who  was  the  idol 
of  all  the  bank  directors.  And  when,  furthermore, 
he  had  come  forward  with  his  bond  issue,  they  had 

invested  in  it  what  little  money  he  would  permit 

132 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

them  to  and  were  anxious  for  more.  But  he  was 
firm  about  wishing  the  bonds  to  be  sold  to  the 
farmers,  for  very  definite  reasons  of  his  own. 

Part  of  this  is  history  and  part  of  it  is  gossip. 
The  only  way  Morgan  had  any  chance  of  knowing 
it  was,  of  course,  through  the  conversation  of  the 
people  about  him,  who  would  rather  talk  Prince 
Charles  and  its  history,  past,  present  and  future, 
than  anything  else  they  knew  of.  What  he  wished 
to  know,  however,  that  they  did  not  tell  him,  was 
the  nature  of  the  business  of  the  gentleman  who 
came  to  see  Mr.  Rupert  on  Saturday  night.  His 
little  investigation  into  the  topography  of  the  swamp 
and  his  discovery  that  the  water  apparently  could  be 
drained  had  given  him  a  hand  in  the  game,  and  he  was 
curious  to  know  what  was  going  on.  However, 
when  he  arrived  at  the  bank  on  Monday  morning, 
Mr.  Peters  informed  him  that  the  man  had  not  come 
at  all,  but  had  telephoned  that  he  would  come  in  a 
day  or  two. 

He  came  that  very  night.  Morgan  saw  him  get 
off  the  mail  stage — a  small  man  wearing  an  over- 
whelmingly large  derby  hat.  No  one  seemed  to  be 
on  hand  to  meet  him,  so  he  stepped  into  the  post- 
office  out  of  the  wind  to  wait.  Morgan  himself 

133 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

waited  in  the  post-office  until  the  mail  for  the  bank 
had  been  sorted  out  of  the  bag  that  the  stage 
brought.  This  was  handed  over  to  him,  and  he 
went  out,  leaving  the  newcomer  still  standing  in 
front  of  the  writing  desk,  reading  a  poster  of  the 
recruiting  service  urging  young  men  to  join  the 
navy.  Ordinarily,  Morgan  went  right  to  Mr.  Rupert's 
house  with  the  mail,  but  to-night  there  was  a  letter 
for  Mr.  Peters,  and  he  stepped  over  to  the  bank  to 
leave  it  so  that  the  little  gentleman  would  be  sure  to 
see  it  in  the  morning.  It  seemed  to  be  the  adver- 
tisement of  a  new  cold  cure,  which  would  be  a  great 
delight  to  him.  The  young  man  also  discovered 
one  he  had  overlooked,  a  letter  to  himself  from 
Madeleine.  As  Mr.  Rupert  did  not  examine  the  mail 
until  after  dinner,  it  was  not  necessary  to  hurry  with 
it,  so  he  sat  down  at  his  little  desk  in  the  corner  of 
the  banking  room  next  to  Mr.  Rupert's  office  and 
opened  his  letter.  So  interested  was  he  in  it  that 
he  did  not  discover  until  he  had  finished  it  that  Mr. 
Rupert,  in  company  with  the  stranger,  had  entered 
the  bank  and  was  in  his  office. 

He  perceived  that  it  was  time  for  him  to  leave. 
He  turned  down  the  light  and  blew  it  out,  but  in 
endeavoring  to  gather  up  the  bundle  of  letters,  his 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

hand  struck  against  them  in  the  semi-darkness  and 
knocked  them  all  off  the  desk  on  the  floor.  Had  it 
not  been  for  that,  he  would  have  been  able  to  leave 
the  bank  before  the  two  men  began  to  talk.  As  it 
was,  he  had  to  get  down  on  his  hands  and  knees 
and  in  the  little  light  that  came  through  the  transom 
of  Mr.  Rupert's  office,  collect  the  mail.  While  he 
was  down  on  the  floor  he  heard  Mr.  Rupert  say : 

"  I  had  your  care-free  letter.  In  your  usually 
lucid  manner  you  leave  me  in  doubt  as  to  whether 
you  were  simply  writing  me  a  letter  to  assure  me  of 
your  good  health,  or  whether  you  were  really  discuss- 
ing some  business." 

"  You  will  understand,"  answered  the  little  man, 
"that  in  transactions  of  this  nature,  it  does  not  do 
to  put  too  much  down  on  the  paper.  I  simply 
hinted,  for  your  information,  at  the  turn  affairs  had 
taken." 

"  Will  you  be  so  good  then,  while  you  are  here,  as 
to  translate  your  letter?  In  fact,  I  suggest  that  in 
the  future  you  bring  them  instead  of  sending  them, 
so  I  shall  know  what  you  are  endeavoring  to  say." 

The  man  appeared  to  be  unruffled. 

"  Well,"  he  said  easily,  "  I  will  tell  you." 

"  If  you  please." 

135 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Morgan  had  now  collected  the  letters,  but  he 
realized  that  it  was  too  late  to  go.  Mr.  Rupert  had 
not  seen  the  light  in  the  corner  of  the  banking- 
room,  or  he  would  have  been  in  immediately  to 
request  his  assistant's  absence.  If  Morgan  left  now, 
the  cashier  would  hear  him  and  there  would  be  an 
embarrassing  scene,  for  the  young  man  had  heard  a 
little  more  than  he  should.  So  he  sat  still  at  his  desk 
with  the  pile  of  letters  on  his  knees.  The  new- 
comer said : 

"As  you  know,  we  brought  a  lumberman  down 
here  in  August.  We  went  all  over  the  place  in  a 
boat  and  scaled  the  timber.  At  the  same  time  we 
took  soundings.  As  you  remember,  we  were  three 
days  at  it.  This  old  fellow  had  been  cutting  cypress 
in  the  swamps  in  North  Carolina.  It  was  his  idea  to 
make  us  an  offer  of  a  royalty  on  the  timber  he  cut 
and  take  the  whole  operation  on  his  own  responsi- 
bility. He  seemed  rather  disappointed  when  he 
saw  the  place,  lying  so  low  down  below  the  banks 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  drain  it  and  very  diffi- 
cult to  get  the  logs  up  to  the  level  ground.  And, 
after  he  figured  the  thing  out  pro  and  con,  he  said 
he  wouldn't  undertake  the  thing  under  any  cir- 
cumstances." 

136 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  That  much  I  gathered  from  your  letter." 

"  Well,  if  he  can't  cut  the  timber  with  a  profit, 
how  can  we  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  know  he  can't?  I  suppose  because 
he  said  so.  That  would  naturally  make  it  true." 

"  I  saw  his  figures,"  returned  the  other,  on  whom 
Mr.  Rupert's  sarcasm  seemed  to  have  no  effect. 
"  Saw  his  figures  for  constructing  the  water-tight 
dams,  pumping,  cutting,  logging  and  transporting 
to  a  market.  We  have  had  every  opportunity  for 
checking  these  up.  I  have  brought  them  to  you  for 
your  consideration." 

For  five  or  ten  minutes  they  discussed  a  multiplic- 
ity of  figures  which,  since  he  could  not  see  the 
papers  they  were  referring  to,  had  no  meaning  what- 
ever to  Morgan,  still  sitting  at  the  desk,  afraid  to 
move  for  fear  of  making  a  noise. 

"  In  other  words,"  exclaimed  the  visitor,  at  length, 
"  we  might  just  as  well  have  sold  bonds  on  this  cow- 
pasture  out  here." 

"Or  Chesapeake  Bay,  or  the  blue  sky.  What 
difference  does  it  make  ?  " 

"We've  got  to  make  good,"  observed  the  other. 
"  You  can't  cut  cypress  off  a  cow-pasture  or  Chesa- 
peake Bay." 

137 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Now,  Mr.  Twining,  listen  to  me,"  said  Rupert, 
in  the  tone  of  some  one  addressing  a  child.  "  You 
and  Mr.  Murchison  and  I  each  put  five  thousand 
dollars  in  this  deal,  making  fifteen  thousand  dollars 
in  all,  with  which  we  bought  the  land.  We  had  the 
extreme  good  fortune  to  sell  bonds  on  it  for  forty 
thousand  dollars,  netting  us  a  profit  of  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars." 

"  I  am  aware  of  that." 

"  Now  when  I  discovered  from  your  lumberman 
in  August  that  there  was  a  doubt  as  to  the  value  of 
this  timber,  I  suggested  the  idea  of  exchanging  the 
second-mortgage  bonds  for  the  first-mortgage  bonds, 
new  lamps  for  old,  just  like  Aladdin,"  he  said, 
lightly.  "  Now  that  will  accomplish  this  :  When  we 
have  got  back  all  these  beautiful  first  bonds  secured 
by  the  real  estate  in  exchange  for  the  second  bonds 
secured  by  nothing,  we  have  no  indebtedness  and  our 
profit  is  clear." 

"  Yes,  but  you  know  you  have  to  live  in  this  com- 
munity, after  you  have  done  that,"  said  the  other. 

"  I  am  coming  to  that,"  went  on  the  cashier. 
"  Six  months  from  now  the  holders  of  these  second- 
mortgage  bonds,  in  their  infinite  wisdom,  will  begin 
to  see  that  they  have  invested  unadvisedly.  In  a 

138 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

year,  when  they  discover,  as  they  will  discover  (you 
can't  conceal  anything  from  these  adroit  people)  that 
no  work  is  being  done,  we  can,  by  a  little  close  work, 
buy  them  all  in  at  half  price.  I've  seen  it  done  be- 
fore." 

"  Yes,"  cried  the  little  man,  beginning  to  be  inter- 
ested, "  go  on." 

"This  will  take  twenty  thousand  dollars  of  the 
twenty-five  we  have  made,  giving  us  five  thousand 
dollars  still  clear.  And  in  addition  to  that  we  have 
the  land,  which  hasn't  cost  us  a  penny." 

"  I  follow  you  so  far." 

"  Well,  your  lumberman  himself  offered  me 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars  for  the  land.  We 
wjll  accept  that  offer  if  we  don't  get  a  better  in  the 
meanwhile,  and  that  will  make  a  clear  profit  of 
thirty  thousand  dollars — ten  thousand  apiece.  And 
the  use  of  the  forty  thousand  dollars  will  make  up 
for  the  interest  we  will  have  paid  on  the  bonds." 

There  was  a  scraping  of  chair  legs  as  the  little 
man  stood  up. 

"  Shake  hands,"  he  said. 

There  was  no  indication  that  Rupert  availed  him- 
self of  this  offer. 

"  This  will  not  be  a  tremendous  fortune  in  any 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

sense  of  the  word,"  he  went  on  evenly,  "but  in  this 
community,  a  man  with  ten  thousand  dollars  and 
a  little  cerebral  development,  which  the  people  here," 
he  observed  in  his  bland  contempt  for  the  rest  of  the 
world,  "do  not  possess,  could  be  a  rich  man  in  a 
few  years.  Is  there  anything  else  we  want  to  talk 
about?" 

"  I  think  not." 

"Then  I  will  put  out  the  light,  if  you  will  step 
out  into  the  lobby  so  as  not  to  be  lost  in  outer 
darkness." 

He  extinguished  the  light,  opened  the  front  door, 
and  slammed  it  hard.  The  building  echoed  from 
the  concussion  and  was  silent  again. 

Morgan  picked  up  his  bundle  of  mail. 


140 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MADELEINE'S    letter    read    in    part    as   fol- 
lows : 

"  MORGAN,  MY  BOY  : 

"  How  fares  my  soldier  of  fortune  ?  Our  old 
friend  Ben  Franklin,  in  his  historic  invasion  of  Phila- 
delphia with  an  extra  suit  of  clothes  in  one  pocket 
and  a  dozen  rolls  in  the  other,  can't  be  spoken  of  in 
the  same  breath  with  you  and  your  entry  into  this 
Prince  Charles  place.  I  suppose  said  town  of  P.  C. 
is  such  a  primeval  town  that  the  appearance  of  a 
gentleman  attired  merely  in  trousers  and  shirt 
passed  without  comment,  this  costume  in  the  morn- 
ing being  considered  perfectly  au  fait.  I  regret 
sometimes  that  I  encouraged  you  to  undertake  this 
try-out  in  such  a  barbarous  place.  Have  your  man- 
ners disappeared  entirely  ?  Do  you  eat  with  your 
knife  solely  ?  I  know  you  won't  know  the  use  of 
studs  and  buttons  when  you  come  back.  The  men 
are  wearing  a  new  kind  of  collar  now.  Very 
degage.  Vurry. 

"  This  is  the  very  latest  gossip.  It  is  rumored  on 
splendid  authority  that  Morgan  Holt,  who  will  spend 
the  winter  in  the  Tyrol,  is  not  the  rightful  heir  of  the 
Holt  millions,  and  for  that  reason  will  remain  in 
seclusion  instead  of  entering  society,  as  would  be 
natural  during  the  first  year  he  had  come  into  his 
own.  I  have  had  many  sweet  letters  of  condolence 

141 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

from  dear  friends  touching  on  this  matter.     Aren't 
we  glad  this  is  not  true  ?     It  is  horrible  to  be  poor. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

"  Good-bye,    dear  boy.     Don't  marry  this  other 
woman  until  you  have  given  me  a  fair  chance. 
"  Yours  always, 

"  MADELEINE." 


"  I  wonder,"  observed  Morgan  to  himself,  "  what 
the  new  kind  of  collar  is  like.  Exciting  things  cer- 
tainly do  happen  in  New  York." 

He  filed  the  letter  away  in  his  bureau  drawer  to- 
gether with  the  very  small  wardrobe  he  had  pur- 
chased. The  suit  Mr.  Rupert  had  given  him  was 
also  filed  away,  and  for  general  use  he  wore  a  ten 
dollar  corduroy  suit  which  was  the  joy  of  his  heart. 

On  the  morning  following  the  conversation  with 
Mr.  Rupert  and  his  visitor  from  the  North,  Morgan 
got  up  an  hour  earlier  than  usual  so  that  he  might 
walk  over  to  Alexander  Berry's  to  see  how  he  was 
getting  on.  It  was  a  bright,  cold  autumn  morning. 
The  sharp  wind  made  him  tingle  all  over.  He 
slammed  the  iron  gate,  which  clanged  musically  in 
the  frosty  air,  and  struck  out  down  the  street  with 
long,  brisk  strides.  Happiness  is  a  thing  which  ebbs 

and  flows  so  easily  in  one's  life  that  it  took  but  a 

142 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

patcH  of  sunshine  and  a  bluster  of  cold  air  to  make 
beautiful  and  serene  the  same  world  that  a  day  or  so 
before  had  been  shrouded  in  the  gloom  of  Erebus. 

As  he  approached  the  post-office  the  mail-stage 
stood  at  the  rail  before  it,  ready  to  start  on  its 
morning  trip  to  the  station.  Behind  him  came  the 
clup,  clup  of  a  horse's  hoofs  on  the  hard  macadam. 
He  turned,  and  there  was  Mrs.  Rupert  driving  the 
little  man  with  the  large  derby  hat  who  had  come  to 
visit  Mr.  Rupert  the  night  before.  She  called  to  him 
and  he  turned  back  to  greet  her.  She  introduced 
the  little  man,  who  was  just  getting  out  of  the  break 
cart.  The  man  looked  at  him  hard. 

"  Saw  you  in  the  post-office  last  night,"  he  said. 
"  Great  resemblance  to  a  millionaire  fellow  I  saw  at 
a  tennis  tournament  in  New  York.  First  name  same 
as  your  last  name,  too,  by  the  way." 

"  Who  was  that  ?  "  asked  Morgan  politely. 

"  Morgan  Holt,"  returned  the  other  smiling.  "  Cer- 
tainly you've  heard  of  him." 

"  Very,  very  rich  ?  "  the  young  man  asked. 

"  No,  twenty  or  thirty  millions.  Only  just  com- 
fortably fixed  for  New  York  purposes.  I  half  be- 
lieve you're  the  very  man,"  he  said,  looking  at  his 
companion. 

143 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

That  individual  smiled. 

"  I  am.  You've  guessed  right.  Let's  carry  out 
the  illusion  by  your  lending  me,  say,  a  hundred  dol- 
lars, payable  in  New  York." 

This  was  the  sort  of  humor  the  visitor  could  ap- 
preciate. He  laughed  loudly. 

"No,"  he  returned  heartily,  "I  see  my  mistake 
now.  You  don't  even  look  like  Morgan  Holt." 

"Your  stage  is  about  to  start,"  said  Mrs.  Rupert. 

The  man  shook  hands  with  them  both,  bundled 
himself  up  in  the  many  blankets  on  the  back  seat  of 
the  stage,  and  flourishing  his  large  hat  in  adieu,  was 
driven  leisurely  off,  the  reins  wrapped  around  the 
whip  while  the  stage  driver  lighted  his  corn-cob  pipe 
in  anticipation  of  a  long  journey. 

"  I  am  always  asking  you,"  said  Mrs.  Rupert, 
"where  you  are  going." 

"And  I  am  always  saying — to  Alexander  Berry's." 

She  drew  back  the  blankets  that  covered  the  seat 
beside  her. 

"  How  about  asking  me  to  go  with  you  ?  " 

"  Fine  !     Will  you  go  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  indeed." 

"  Very  good.     Shall  we — ride  or  walk  ?  " 

"Oh,  let's  ride." 

144 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  smiled  and  stepped  up  into  the  cart  beside  her. 

"You   haven't  had  breakfast,"  he  said  accusingly. 

She  laughed. 

"  Oh,  come  now,  no  such  airs  of  superiority.  I 
had  breakfast  at  quarter  of  seven." 

"  Which  beats  me  by  fifteen  minutes.  And  to 
further  shame  you,  I  might  say  I  breakfast  every 
morning  at  that  time." 

"  But  Mr.  Rupert " 

"  Oh,"  she  said  smiling,  "  quarter  to  nine,  or 
thereabouts.  He  sits  up  until  all  hours  of  the  night, 
I  think.  Isn't  this  a  wonderful  morning?  "  she  broke 
off  abruptly. 

"  Indeed  it  is.  It  is  seldom  that  I  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  see  it  at  this  time." 

She  glanced  at  him  quickly. 

"  What  time  do  you  have  to  be  at  the  bank  ?  "  she 
asked,  presently,  with  a  fixed  purpose. 

"  About  quarter  past  eight" 

"  And  what  time  is  it  now  ?  " 

He  took  out  his  watch  with  the  monogram  "  M. 
H."  on  it. 

"  It  is  seven-thirty,  now." 

She  did  not  hear  him. 

"  What  a  beautiful  watch.     May  I  see  it  ?  " 

145 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  passed  it  to  her.  She  looked  at  the  mono- 
gram. 

"  The  strange  thing  about  monograms,"  she  ob- 
served idly,  as  she  handed  it  back,  "  is  that  either 
letter  can  come  first." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that  is  the  strange  thing  about 
them." 

They  drove  on  in  silence  for  a  while. 

"  Of  course,"  she  began  presently,  "  all  women  have 
an  insatiable  curiosity." 

"  Which  isn't  always  insatiable." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked. 

"They  have  a  genius  for  finding  out." 

"  That  was  just  what  I  was  coming  to." 

He  smiled,  but  said  nothing.  She  looked  at  him 
keenly  and  began  to  laugh. 

"The  name  Henry, — do  you  like  it?"  she  de- 
manded. 

"  Not  at  all.  But,"  he  added  with  entirely  unex- 
pected frankness,  "  it  was  the  best  I  could  do  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment." 

She  caught  her  breath.     Then  she  laughed  again. 

"  How  much  time  did  you  have  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  A  second  or  two.     Your  husband  saw  the  initials 

and  then  asked  me  my  name." 

146 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  And  you  did  not  want  to  tell  him  it  was " 

She  paused. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said  calmly. 

"  Well,  Morgan  Holt." 

She  said  it  in  a  low  tone  as  though  she  feared 
some  one  might  hear  it,  and  when  she  said  it  they 
were  both  surprised  at  the  sound  of  it. 

"  Exactly,"  he  replied  in  a  moment. 

"Why  do  you  tell  me?" 

"  I  didn't.  But  you  have  been  putting  two  and 
two  together  all  along,  and  when  this  little  fellow  un- 
veiled the  king  pin  just  now,  it  was  apparent  that 
further  concealment  would  be  an  insult  to  your  in- 
telligence." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said. 

"  The  reason  I'm  here,"  he  went  on  without  hesita- 
tion, "  is  because  I  want  to  marry  a  girl.  This  girl 
says  I  am  a  mere  idle  rich  person.  If  I  earn  my 
living  for  a  year  she  will  marry  me." 

"  And  hence,"  she  observed,  "  your  presence 
here." 

"  And  hence  my  presence  here." 

She  turned  in  the  roadway  to  Alexander's  place. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,"  she  said,  "  that  this  fact  is 
as  safe  with  me  as  with  yourself — if  you  wish  it." 

147 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  I  do  wish  it,"  he  replied.  "  Otherwise  I  should 
have  to  make  a  fresh  start  somewhere  else." 

"  And  my  scheme  for  Lenore,"  she  said  sighing, 
"is  all  off." 

"  Apparently." 

Alexander  was  coming  down  his  porch  steps. 
She  began  to  laugh  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him 
over  the  reins. 

"  Mr.  Holt,"  she  remarked,  "  it  has  been  a  pleasure 
to  have  met  you." 

"  Why  not  Morgan  ?  " 

"  Morgan,  then." 


148 


CHAPTER  XIV 

CHRISTMAS  EVE  at  Prince  Charles.  The  snow 
fell  silently  and  softly  in  the  twilight.  Lights 
from  the  house  windows  threw  warm  spots  of  color 
on  the  snow-covered  lawns.  The  palings  of  the 
fences  had  each  accumulated  a  little  spire  of  snow. 
On  the  door-steps  were  accurate  white  mats,  per- 
fectly level  and  rounded  carefully  at  the  edges ; 
which  people,  emerging  from  their  houses  with 
brooms,  unappreciatively  swept  off.  Thereupon, 
pleased  with  the  beginning,  they  would  continue  the 
process  briskly  down  the  path  to  the  sidewalk,  mak- 
ing a  nice  dry  walk  to  the  house,  and  returning, 
with  much  stamping  of  feet,  disappear  within,  filled 
with  the  consciousness  of  duty  well  done.  And  al- 
most before  their  doors  had  closed,  the  snow, 
patiently  falling,  began  to  manufacture  more  mats, 
very  thin  at  first,  but  growing  whiter  and  whiter 
until  there  was  no  sign  that  the  sweeping  had  been 
done.  Here  and  there  along  the  street  sounded  a 

pleasant  knocking  as  some  careful  householder,  with 

149 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

a  brush,  swept  off  the  window  sill,  previous  to  clos- 
ing the  shutters.  And  in  the  distance  somewhere, 
behind  the  falling  flakes  that  dropped  on  your  hair 
and  in  your  eyes,  you  could  hear  the  faint  muffled 
sound,  the  gentle  tintinabulation  that  betokened  the 
approach — exciting  event — of  the  first  sleigh. 

It  was  a  very  homely  scene,  but  it  was  something 
hitherto  beyond  the  ken  of  Morgan  Holt.  He  had 
never  watched  the  snow  in  the  growing  dusk  except 
through  the  plate  glass  of  a  hurrying  limousine,  or 
with  his  nose  pressed  against  the  window  of  his 
room  watching  the  men  shoveling  it  off,  dirty  and 
unpleasant,  as  fast  as  it  fell.  He  had  never  before 
helped  the  grocer's  boy  carry  home  a  barrel  of  holly 
through  the  streets,  snow  over  his  shoes,  snow  on 
his  coat,  snow  on  his  hat,  snow  on  his  eyebrows,  and 
the  great  awkward  barrel  whiter  than  if  it  had 
come  from  the  miller's.  He  had  never  realized  that 
Christmas  was  anything  but  a  hollow  function  at 
which  he  had  received  presents  he  could  have  had  at 
any  other  time  of  the  year  had  he  wanted  them,  and 
on  which  his  father  and  he  had  made  up  a  list  of' 
which  relatives  could  be  sent  gold  pieces  and  which 
had  to  be  bought  things.  The  day  after  Christmas 

had  always  been  the  pleasant  time  for  him,  for  then 

150 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

all  the  work  was  over.  He  had  never  before  known 
that  there  was  any  pleasure  in  decorating  the  house 
for  Christmas.  His  father's  house  had  been  dressed 
every  year  the  day  before  by  a  florist  and  an  elec- 
trician with  the  help  of  a  gang  of  men.  The  place 
was  strewn  all  day  long  with  smilax  and  holly  and 
mistletoe  and  the  debris  therefrom,  and  men  entered 
with  step-ladders  and  boards  wherever  you  happened 
to  be,  and  began  to  take  down  pictures  and  hang 
festoons. 

But  this  time  he  was  as  excited  as  he  could  be.  He 
had  heard  Miss  Torrey  say  that  she  wished  holly  and 
mistletoe,  and  on  the  trip  he  had  made  to  Norfolk 
over  the  previous  Saturday  and  Sunday,  he  had  dis- 
covered quantities  of  both  for  sale  on  the  street  and 
had  brought  back  a  barrel  filled  with  it  on  the  boat. 
This  he  had  stored  at  the  grocer's  until  the  proper 
time,  so  that  it  would  be  an  absolute  surprise  to  Miss 
Torrey,  who  had  nothing  with  which  to  decorate  the 
house  except  some  holly  wreaths  (of  which  very  few 
came  to  Prince  Charles)  and  some  pine  branches 
which  she  had  a  boy  cut  for  her  in  the  woods.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  house  Morgan  left  the  grocer's 
boy  outside  to  guard  the  barrel,  and  opening  the 
front  door,  burst  into  the  hall. 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Oh,  Miss  Torrey,"  he  called  to  the  house  in 
general. 

There  was  a  silence,  and  then  a  gentle  and  deco- 
rous patter  of  feet  on  the  floor  above.  Miss  Torrey 
descended  the  stair. 

"  Did  some  one  call  me  ?  Oh,  Mr.  Morgan,  I 
didn't  recognize  you  in  the  half-light.  Now  I  know 
just  what  you  are  going  to  say.  Indeed  I  do.  And 
I  am  just  as  sorry  as  I  can  be.  But  yesterday  was 
such  a  poor  drying  day.  We  just  couldn't  dry  the 
towels  at  all.  Simply  couldn't.  So  I  gave  you  only 
one.  I  said  to  James,  '  I  know  Mr.  Morgan  won't 
like  it,  but  I  simply  cannot  help  it.' ' 

The  young  man  laughed  out  loud. 

"  Why  worry  about  towels  ?  I  have  a  present  for 
you." 

"  A  present !  A  Christmas  present  ?  You  can 
give  it  to  me  now,  but  I  couldn't  look  at  it  until 
to-morrow.  Not  one  peep.  I  know  lots  of  people 
do  it,  but  not  I.  Christmas  is  Christmas,  I  say,  and 
I  just  wouldn't  think  of  opening  things  one  minute 
before  time.  It  takes  away  all  the  pleasure." 

"  But  this  is  a  Christmas-eve  present." 

"  A   Christmas-eve  present  ?      I   never  heard   of 

such  a  thing.     But  I  suppose  there  are  such  things. 

152 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Where  is  it?  I'm  so  curious  to  see.  Just  like  a 
schoolgirl.  I  can't  wait  another  minute." 

"  It's  outside  in  a  barrel." 

"  In  a  barrel  ?  Then  it  ought  to  be  brought  round 
to  the  kitchen.  And  if  the  snow  could  be  brushed 
off.  I  know  you'll  think  I'm  very  particular,  but  it 
tracks  so.  James  says  I'm  an  old  maid.  And  I  say 
that's  a  title  that  cannot  be  earned  in  a  day.  That's 
my  little  joke." 

She  followed  him  to  the  door,  still  talking,  and 
held  it  open  a  few  inches  to  say  several  last  sen- 
tences, while  he  and  the  boy  lifted  the  barrel  and 
started  round  the  house.  When  they  disappeared 
round  the  corner  she  had  not  even  come  to  a  semi- 
colon. Then,  finding  they  were  indeed  gone  she 
hastened  with  little  short  steps  to  the  kitchen  and 
had  innumerable  papers  spread  all  over  the  floor  to 
protect  it  from  various  dreaded  kinds  of  dirt,  and 
was  ready  when  they  entered  the  rear  door  to  take 
up  the  thread  of  her  discourse — if  it  had  a  thread — 
just  where  she  had  left  off. 

She  hovered  around  them  like  a  tittering  little 
bird,  progressing  with  tireless  tongue  from  paren- 
thesis to  parenthesis  with  the  utmost  cheerfulness, 
asking  them  a  hundred  questions  which  she  an- 

153 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

swered  before  they  had  an  opportunity  to  open  their 
mouths ;  admiring  one  piece  of  holly  and  then  rush- 
ing around  to  select  another  more  ravishing,  tears  of 
excitement  in  her  bright  eyes,  her  thin  arms  filled 
with  green  leaves  and  scarlet  berries.  Morgan's 
heart  warmed  within  him  to  see  the  little  lady  so 
happy. 

It  was  a  strange  pair  of  people  who  started  in 
then  to  decorate  the  house,  uncongenial  to  the  last 
degree,  yet  united  by  their  singleness  of  purpose. 
For  once  they  were  in  accord.  Miss  Torrey  ap- 
pealed to  him  for  his  advice  before  placing  a  single 
branch,  and,  while  she  never  waited  to  hear  what 
that  advice  was,  experienced  all  the  comfort  that 
might  have  come  from  finding  that  he  agreed  with 
her  in  her  decision,  and,  although  he  could  not  per- 
ceive any  beauty  in  the  prim  and  upright  method 
she  had  of  arranging  the  branches,  yet  he  conceded 
that  the  exactitude  of  their  disposition  might  be 
symbolical  of  conscientiousness  and  rectitude  of 
action,  which  could  be  said  to  be  the  inner  and 
deeper  meaning  of  Christmas. 

And  when  Dr.  Torrey  came  in  and  saw  the  little 
branches  of  holly  sitting  up  erectly  at  the  mathemat- 
ical center  of  each  picture,  and  the  little  dabs  of 

1 54 


FOR    ONCE    THEY    WERE    IN    ACCORD 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

alternate  holly  and  mistletoe,  carefully  selected  for 
size,  ranged  in  a  row  on  the  mantelpiece,  as  though 
they  had  just  been  put  there  so  as  to  be  convenient 
when  needed,  and  the  vases  and  water  pitcher  and 
odd  bits  of  china  filled  with  stiff  holly  and  mistletoe 
bouquets,  he  laughed  ;  but  he  was  pleased  neverthe- 
less. 

"  Old  Alexander  Berry,"  he  said  as  he  sat  down  to 
the  dinner  table,  "  is  in  a  bad  way  again."  Every 
one  lately  had  begun  to  speak  of  him  as  "  Old 
Alexander  Berry." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  him  ?  "  asked 
Morgan. 

"  Every  time  I  see  him  I  am  going  to  advise  him 
to  go  out  to  Arizona  and  live  with  his  brother,  but  I 
can't  pick  him  up  bodily  and  send  him  there  by 
freight.  Until  he  does  go,  there  is  no  help  for  him. 
Tuberculosis  thrives  in  this  locality." 

"  But  how  about  his  farm  ?  " 

"  He  has  no  equity  on  his  farm.  The  mortgage 
and  accrued  taxes  have  accumulated  so,  and  the  land 
has  depreciated  to  such  an  extent  that  there  is 
hardly  enough  there  to  satisfy  the  indebtedness. 
But  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  a  man  like 
Berry  ?  He  won't  let  go  of  the  farm  unless  he  gets 

155 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  out  of  it.  While  there 
are  lots  of  people  who  might  join  together  to  give 
him  enough  money  to  go  west  on,  nobody  is  going 
to  let  go  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for  that 
incumbered  real  estate." 

"Why  doesn't  the  holder  of  the  mortgage  fore- 
close ?  That  would  force  him  to  go." 

"  It  would  break  the  old  man's  heart.  But  stay- 
ing here  is  plain  suicide.  I  should  not  be  surprised 
if  he  did  not  live  to  see  the  New  Year." 

"  Then  he  isn't  strong  enough  to  go  now  any- 
way ?  " 

"  Excitement  would  buoy  him  up.  He  would 
reach  his  brother's  feeling  like  a  two  year  old,  and  in 
the  course  of  a  month  he  would  forget  that  he  had 
ever  been  sick." 

Morgan  could  not  get  Alexander  out  of  his  mind 
for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  The  idea  that  any  one 
in  the  world  could  die  when  something  might  be 
done  to  help  was  incomprehensible  to  him.  Dr. 
Torrey  had  said  that  people  would  undoubtedly  have 
subscribed  sufficient  money  to  send  the  sick  man 
west,  but  would  not  subscribe  to  buy  the  farm.  One 
they  regarded  as  charity,  and  the  other  was  busi- 
ness. In  the  one  case  they  would  be  giving  their 

156 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

money  to  a  good  cause,  in  the  other  they  would 
simply  be  making  a  bad  bargain.  It  made  no  dif- 
ference that  the  result  obtained  was  the  same.  Mor- 
gan had  found  that  same  complexity  of  ideas  every- 
where since  he  had  come  closer  in  touch  with  the 
world.  He  found  people  offsetting  the  big,  the 
human  motives  of  life,  which  are  necessarily  ideal, 
with  a  host  of  practical  virtues,  such  as  economy, 
thrift  and  common  sense.  The  Biblical  obligation 
of  the  man  with  two  coats  to  give  his  neighbor  one 
was  held  to  be  binding,  perhaps,  on  the  man  with 
ten  coats.  It  had  been  found  that  in  many  cases  it 
was  either  the  man's  own  fault  he  had  no  coat,  or 
else  he  did  not  take  care  of  the  coat  given  him  after 
he  had  it. 

Morgan  was  not  looking  on  the  question  as  a 
matter  of  conscience,  or  of  morals,  or  of  duty,  but  as 
a  condition  of  mind.  The  person  having  the  two 
coats  and  seeing  the  other  fellow  with  none  might  be 
very  desirous  of  giving  him  one  of  them.  But  after 
sober  second  thought  he  would  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  perhaps  it  would  be  encouraging  idle- 
ness, and  thus  would  persuade  himself  against  doing 
the  thing  he  wanted  to  do  most. 

He  had  seen  that  same  quality  of  mind  and  won- 
157 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

dered  at  it  in  the  case  of  an  old  farmer,  one  of  the 
depositors  in  the  bank.  The  man  had  owned  a  very 
fine  farm  about  five  miles  out  of  Prince  Charles 
which  he  had  bought  when  a  young  man  for  five 
hundred  dollars.  By  energy  and  good  judgment 
and  hard  work  he  had  increased  the  fertility  of  the 
ground  until  it  produced  the  best  crops  the  country 
round.  When  the  new  turnpike  was  run  directly 
by  his  farm,  a  rich  woman,  a  Mrs.  Berry  Brown, 
of  New  York,  offered  ten  thousand  dollars  for  it. 
His  first  thought  then  must  have  been  that,  having 
spent  his  whole  manhood  on  that  farm,  it  would  be 
impossible  for  him  to  live  anywhere  else.  But  the 
idea  of  at  last  giving  up  hard  work  and  of  having 
such  a  large  sum  of  money,  and  his  thrifty  eagerness 
to  avail  himself  of  the  "  good  offer,"  were  too  much 
for  him,  and  he  sold  the  farm.  He  built  a  house  in 
Prince  Charles,  and  could  be  seen  daily  walking 
about,  idle  and  disconsolate.  When  he  had  died  a 
few  weeks  before,  it  was  evident  that  it  was  for 
nothing  else  but  regret  and  loneliness.  Yet  every 
one  had  applauded  his  good  fortune. 

Morgan  went  over  these  things  in  his  mind  be- 
cause he  wished  to  be  certain  that  what  he  was 

about  to  do  was   right.     His  own  mind,  whether 

158 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

from  his  secluded  life,  or  naturally,  was  surprisingly 
direct,  like  a  child's.  The  Quixotic  appearance  of  a 
thing  made  no  difference  to  him  if  he  felt  it  was 
right.  He  would  not  have  made  this  strange  com- 
pact to  earn  his  living  for  a  year,  if  he  had  not  seen 
with  positive  clearness  that  it  was  a  very  probable 
solution  of  his  problem.  He  thought  over  the  ques- 
tion during  the  course  of  a  long  walk  in  the  snow, 
and  when  he  returned  he  had  decided  that  his  ideas 
about  things  were  best. 

In  the  morning,  therefore,  he  counted  over  what 
was  left  of  the  money  he  had  brought  with  him,  and 
setting  out  immediately  after  breakfast,  bought  Alex- 
ander Berry's  farm  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 


159 


CHAPTER  XV 

ON  the  twenty-seventh  day  of  December,  after 
the  deed  had  been  signed  and  recorded,  and  a 
new  mortgage,  equal  in  amount  to  the  old  mortgage 
and  the  accrued  interest,  had  been  written,  old 
Alexander,  very  weak  and  thin,  but  with  bright  eyes 
and  little  red  spots  in  his  cheeks,  was  bundled,  to- 
gether with  his  old-fashioned  round  top  trunk,  in 
the  Ruperts'  automobile  and  whisked  over  to  the 
railroad  station,  where  he  bade  farewell  forever,  and 
with  no  regret  at  the  time,  to  Prince  Charles. 

That  morning  Mr.  Rupert  summoned  Morgan  into 
his  private  office. 

"  Morgan,"  he  said  genially,  "  I  find  that  you  are 
the  most  perfect  example  of  fairy  godmother,  passing 
lightly  through  life  distributing  wealth  and  happiness 
on  both  sides  of  you.  You  have  just  sent  poor,  dear 
Alexander  Berry  away  out  west,  where,  for  the  rest 
of  his  life,  he  won't  have  a  care  in  the  world,  except 
to  get  up  at  three  in  the  morning  and  help  his  brother 
brand  cows  until  eight  at  night.  And  how  the  poor 

overworked  man  will  thrive  on  it !  " 

160 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"Yes,  I  think  it  will  be  better  for  him,"  returned 
Morgan,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  But  what  I  want  to  know  is,"  pursued  the  other, 
"  have  you  any  more  money  ?  Because  if  you  have, 
my  house  needs  painting,  and  I  need  a  new  macadam 
driveway  to  the  stable.  There  are  two  excellent 
chances  for  you  to  give  it  away." 

"I'm  afraid  your  application  is  too  late,"  returned 
the  young  man,  laughing.  "  Funds  are  all  ex- 
hausted. Only  five  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents 
left  now." 

The  other  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Give  it  to  me  before  you  give  it  to  some  one  else. 

"  Let  me  see,"  pursued  Mr.  Rupert,  "  old  Alex- 
ander had  fifty  acres,  mostly  inaccessible  woodland 
and  swamp  land.  He  said,  at  one  time,  it  was  worth 
a  hundred  dollars  an  acre,  but  after  a  while  he  agreed 
with  the  rest  of  the  community  that  it  was  worth 
only  about  forty.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with 
all  this  estate  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  returned  Morgan,  frankly. 

"  Well,  remember,"  said  Mr.  Rupert,  "  if  you  ever 
want  to  give  away  more  money,  I'm  always  here." 

The  young  man  promised  to  remember,  and  went 

away  very  much  amused  at  his  employer's  conde- 

161 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

scension.  Mr.  Rupert  would  probably  not  have 
treated  him  so  pleasantly  had  he  known  that  Mor- 
gan had,  without  intending  to  do  so,  been  hamper- 
ing very  considerably  the  cashier's  bond  exchanging 
scheme.  John  Anderson  had  taken  the  former's  ad- 
vice on  the  subject  at  its  face  value,  and  flatly  re- 
fused to  part  with  the  bond  he  had  originally  bought ; 
and  in  justifying  himself  for  this  course  to  others 
had  mentioned  Morgan's  name,  as  a  person  of  great 
business  sagacity,  explaining  that  the  banker's  as- 
sistant thought  the  second  mortgage  was  a  bad  in- 
vestment. The  other  accepted  Anderson's  apprais- 
ment  of  Morgan  without  question.  It  was  evident 
that  he  must  be  a  person  of  unusual  qualities,  and 
with  more  resources  than  simply  his  position  at  the 
bank.  His  open-handed  generosity  proved  that. 
And  his  quiet  manner  stimulated  their  imagination 
as  to  his  mental  qualities,  and  made  it  probable  that 
he  might  be  concealing  his  real  importance.  He, 
therefore,  was  astonished  frequently  to  find  his  ad- 
vice asked  on  the  question  of  the  bonds,  sometimes 
by  total  strangers.  In  replying  to  them  he  never 
advised  them  to  adopt  any  course.  He  simply 
stated  his  view  of  the  situation  and  explained  the 

reasons   he   had    for    holding    that  view.     But  the 

162 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

noticeable  thing  about  it  was,  that  none  of  the  men 
to  whom  he  talked  exchanged  their  bonds. 

Morgan  was  rather  entertained  at  the  idea  that 
he  should  suddenly  have  established  a  reputation 
as  a  sage.  He  did  nothing  at  all  to  encourage  it, 
because  it  was  a  responsible  position,  which  he  did 
not  feel  competent  to  fill.  However,  the  reputation 
grew  in  spite  of  him.  If  he  explained,  as  he  usu- 
ally did,  that  what  advice  he  gave  was  simply 
his  own  opinion  (or  his  own  guess,  to  be  exact), 
and  was  worth  only  that  much,  it  only  heightened 
its  value  to  the  person  who  received  it.  His  trip 
to  Norfolk  was  greatly  talked  of  and  speculated 
upon.  It  became  a  fixed  belief  that  he  was  intend- 
ing to  start  some  enterprise  in  Prince  Charles ;  prob- 
ably, as  he  had  hinted  lightly  the  first  day  he  came 
to  the  town,  to  take  a  hand  in  the  cypress  transaction. 

Morgan's  trip  to  Norfolk  had  been  taken  after  due 
consideration  as  the  only  way  to  settle  the  problems 
that  puzzled  him — problems  arising  from  his  acci- 
dental discovery  of  the  inside  workings  of  the  cy- 
press company,  and  from  his  conviction  (which  he 
had  made  a  certainty)  that  the  swamp  could  be 
drained.  In  his  consideration  of  the  subject,  the 

name  came  to  him  of  an  old  and  successful  lumber- 

163 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

ing  firm  of  Norfolk,  into  whose  offices  he  and  his 
father  had  gone  once  while  on  their  trip  South.  He 
wrote  them  a  letter,  saying  that,  if  they  were  inter- 
ested in  cypress,  there  was  a  certain  situation  he 
would  like  to  talk  over  with  thenio  An  answer  came 
by  return  mail  asking  him  to  come  down  whenever 
he  could. 

Morgan,  following  the  receipt  of  this  letter,  had 
borrowed  from  the  local  carpenter  and  builder  his 
long  spirit-level,  and  a  board  that  was  very  straight 
and  had  a  true  edge.  With  these,  on  the  following 
Saturday  afternoon,  he  had  trudged  off  to  the  swamp, 
and  set  them  down  at  a  certain  point  on  the  top  of 
the  high  ground  surrounding  it.  He  had  noticed 
this  point  many  times  before,  on  account  of  the  fact 
that,  through  the  trees,  now  that  the  leaves  had 
fallen,  you  could  see  a  corner  of  the  eaves  and  part 
of  the  shingle  roof  of  Alexander  Berry's  house.  At 
this  point  then,  he  had  set  up  his  improvised  sur- 
veyor's level.  To  do  this  he  had  propped  up  the 
board  on  its  edge  by  stones,  and  wedged  under  it 
with  other  small  stones  and  handfuls  of  dirt,  until 
when  he  placed  the  spirit-level  upon  it  the  little  bub- 
ble stood  precisely  in  the  center  of  the  glass.  Thus 

assured  that  it  was  exactly  level,  he  had  lain  flat  down 

164 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

on  the  ground  and,  squinting-  along  it,  found  that  it 
sighted  a  point  on  the  roof  of  the  house,  just  above 
the  eaves,  where  a  shingle  had  fallen  off,  leaving  a 
light  spot  on  its  gray  surface.  Then  looking  along 
the  board  from  the  other  end,  he  had  sighted  a  point 
on  the  dead  limb  of  a  tree  in  the  swamp,  which  tree, 
when  he  had  located  it,  had  turned  out  to  be 
standing  in  water.  Thereupon,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  it  was  December,  he  had  stripped  to  his  skin, 
plunged  in,  with  a  steel  tape  in  his  teeth,  and  scal- 
ing the  tree,  found  that  the  water  was  just  eighteen 
feet  below  the  point  on  the  dead  limb. 

The  next  step,  after  donning  his  clothes  and  gath- 
ering up  his  tools,  had  been  to  measure  the  distance 
from  the  roof  of  Alexander's  house  to  the  ground,  set 
his  homely  level  at  that  point  on  the  ground,  and 
sight  a  point  on  one  of  the  pound-net  poles  that 
could  be  seen  in  the  distance  on  the  shore.  When 
he  calculated  this,  he  had  discovered  that  the  total 
distance  from  high-water  level  to  the  point  on  the 
crest  of  the  high  ground  surrounding  the  swamp  was 
about  thirty-six  feet.  These  two  results  proved  that 
his  calculations  with  the  aneroid  barometer  had  been 
generally  correct,  and  that  the  water  in  the  swamp 

was  eighteen  feet  above  sea-level. 

165 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  had  found  the  lumbering  firm  in  Norfolk  un- 
usually interested  in  his  information.  None  of  them 
had  remembered  his  former  visit  to  the  office,  appar- 
ently. They  had,  of  course,  heard  of  the  cypress  at 
Prince  Charles  and  the  bond  issue.  Morgan  had 
suggested  that  as  Mr.  Rupert's  company  did  not 
know  of  the  difference  in  levels  and  were  therefore 
delaying  their  cutting  of  the  cypress,  the  Norfolk 
concern  should  endeavor  to  get  control  of  the  land. 

Morgan's  facts  had  held  their  attention,  and  they 
had  agreed  that  some  one  would  have  to  go  up 
quietly  and  look  into  the  question.  They  had  all 
expressed  a  doubt,  however,  as  to  the  possibility  of 
draining  the  swamp  by  cutting  a  channel  through 
rocky  ground  to  the  bay,  which  was  more  than  a 
mile  distant.  This  had  been  a  cruel  damper  to  Mor- 
gan's enthusiasm,  but  he  had  urged  them  to  send 
some  one  up  anyway,  which  they  had  promised 
to  do. 

This  man,  the  firm  wrote  Morgan,  would  arrive  in 
Prince  Charles  the  second  week  in  January.  As 
they  did  not  wish  it  to  be  spread  about  that  they 
were  interfering  in  Rupert's  deal,  they  asked  him 
not  to  be  surprised  if  their  representative  announced 

that  he  had  come  to  sell  a  patent  corn-husker.     About 

166 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

ten  days  before  this  time  Morgan  came  upon  his 
great  idea ! 

He  remembered  the  occasion  for  a  long  while 
afterward  because  of  the  extremely  hurt  and  grieved 
note  he  received  from  Miss  Torrey  as  a  result  of  it. 
He  could  not  explain  to  the  good  lady  what  a  great 
benefit  the  whole  thing  might  be  to  every  one,  so  he 
was  properly  penitent,  and  promised  never  to  do  it 
again. 

It  happened  in  this  way.  He  was  drawing  water 
for  a  bath  one  evening,  and  had  laid  his  bath  towel 
over  the  edge  of  the  tub.  When  he  turned  off  the 
water  he  did  not  notice  that  it  touched  the  end  of 
the  towel,  but  went  on  stropping  his  razor  and  pro- 
ceeded leisurely  shaving.  At  the  end  of  this  rather 
protracted  operation,  he  was  surprised  to  find  a  great 
puddle  of  water  on  the  floor.  The  towel  had  become 
thoroughly  saturated  from  end  to  end,  and  had  be- 
gun to  drip  water  out  on  the  floor ;  and  after  the 
accidental  syphon  thus  formed  had  begun  to  work 
freely,  the  water  ran  out  on  the  floor  'in  a  stream. 
Morgan  did  not  take  the  towel  from  its  position. 
Not  at  all.  He  stood  petrified,  gazing  at  it  with  the 
light  of  the  new  idea  in  his  eyes.  Syphon  !  That 

was  the  word. 

167 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

The  water  ran  down  on  the  floor  more  freely.  It 
soaked  through  the  boards  to  the  plaster  below,  and 
soaking  through  the  plaster  began  to  drip  on  the 
stove  in  the  kitchen.  And  poor  Miss  Torrey,  hear- 
ing these  hissing  sounds  at  regular  ^intervals,  sup- 
posed, of  course,  the  hot  water  boiler  was  bursting, 
and  was  afraid  to  go  in  the  room.  After  fruitless 
effort  to  investigate  the  situation  through  the  key- 
hole, she  borrowed  a  step-ladder  from  the  next  door 
neighbor,  and,  with  some  one  to  steady  it  on  each 
side,  climbed  timidly  but  resolutely  to  the  top  of  it, 
and  peered  through  the  kitchen  window.  One  look 
was  enough.  It  seemed  as  though  she  never  would 
get  to  the  bottom  of  that  ladder.  Never  had  the 
good  little  lady  ascended  those  stairs  so  rapidly. 
Never  had  she  pounded  so  loudly  on  the  bath-room 
door.  And  then  Morgan  guiltily  removed  the  towel 
and  began  to  mop  up  the  water. 

It  was  not  long  after  that  he  had  perfected  the 
whole  scheme. 

"  The  idea,"  he  said  to  the  man  from  Norfolk 
(named  Perkins)  when  he  arrived,  "  is  to  build  a  huge 
syphon  from  the  swamp  to  the  bay.  Let  me  draw  it." 
He  took  a  piece  of  paper.  "  Here  is  the  swamp. 

The  bay  here.     The  crest  of  the  high  ground  here." 

168 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

When  he  had  finished  his  rough  drawing  he  laid 
it  before  the  other. 

"  Looks  good  enough  to  fool  me,"  said  the  man, 
after  a  few  moments  of  inspection.  "  Go  ahead  with 
your  spiel." 

"  At  the  high  point  of  the  syphon,"  went  on  Mor- 
gan, "you  have  a  pump.  Between  the  pump  and 
the  bay,  and  below  the  level  of  the  water  in  the 
swamp,  is  a  valve.  To  start  the  syphon  you  close 
the  valve,  making  an  air-tight  section  of  pipe  all  the 
way  to  the  end  of  the  pipe  which  is  submerged  in  the 
swamp.  You  then  start  the  pump  and  pump  out  all 
the  air  from  the  pipe.  That  sucks  the  water  up  from 
the  swamp  and  fills  the  pipe  down  to  the  level  of  the 
valve.  Your  syphon  is  then  ready  to  operate.  You 
open  the  valve  and  the  water  continues  to  run  out 
indefinitely." 

The  man  looked  at  him  admiringly. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  "  demanded  Mor- 
gan, at  length. 

"  It  listens  glorious  to  me,"  asseverated  Mr.  Per- 
kins, who  spoke  a  sort  of  hybrid  English.  "  I  think 
our  firm  will  take  a  hand  in  this  proposition." 


169 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  lumbering  company  did  decide  to  take  a 
hand  in  the  cypress  undertaking.  They  wanted 
cypress,  and  they  sent  Perkins  back  again  with  in- 
structions to  get  control  of  the  Prince  Charles  swamp 
if  it  took  all  winter.  So  Perkins  came  back  with  a 
model  of  his  impossible  corn-husker,  and  it  is  a  com- 
pliment to  his  ability  as  a  persuasive  talker  that  in 
fits  of  absent-mindedness  he  several  times  almost 
made  sales  of  the  machine  before  he  collected  him- 
self. Morgan  wondered  how  he  was  ever  going  to 
get  control  of  the  swamp.  But  he  did  it  very  handily. 
First  he  discovered  that,  in  order  to  sell  the  bonds 
to  the  farmers,  Mr.  Rupert  had  considered  it  ad- 
visable to  put  in  a  clause  agreeing  to  redeem  the 
bonds  (which  were  to  run  for  five  years)  at  the  end 
of  three  years  if  the  holder  so  desired.  This  was 
unusual,  but,  in  a  farming  community  where  money 
was  apt  to  be  scarce  at  almost  any  time,  five  years 
had  seemed  like  a  long  while  to  tie  up  capital,  and 
this  opportunity  to  get  it  back  sooner,  if  it  might  be 

necessary,  had  been  very  popular.     This  had  been 

170 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

part  and  parcel  of  Rupert's  scheme  to  sell  the  entire 
issue  to  the  farmers — who  were  easier  to  manage. 
The  three  years  ran  out  in  May. 

That  was  all  that  was  necessary  for  Perkins.  He 
hired  a  spring  wagon  and  a  horse,  and  putting  his 
corn-husker  in  the  wagon,  went  on  a  long  tour  of  the 
countryside,  talking  up  his  machine  to  all  the  farmers 
and  finding  out  incidentally  whether  they  owned  any 
bonds  and  how  many.  They  also  told  him  who  else 
owned  bonds.  At  the  end  of  the  week  he  had 
located  three-quarters  of  the  bond  issue.  He  was 
certain  that  the  other  quarter  was  owned  in  larger 
blocks  by  the  more  prosperous  men,  particularly  the 
bank  directors  in  Prince  Charles.  He  found  that, 
while  a  great  many  of  the  farmers  were  considering 
the  question  of  exchanging  their  bonds,  only  a  few 
of  them  had  actually  done  so. 

This  accomplished,  Perkins  wrote  to  his  firm  for 
assistance  and  planned  a  great  coup  for  the  following 
Friday  night.  He  arranged  a  monster  mass-meeting 
for  all  the  farmers  and  went  about  among  them, 
frankly  discarding  his  corn-husker,  urging  them  to 
attend.  It  was  held  in  Mrs.  Berry  Brown's  great 
barn,  Mrs.  Brown  (who  was  the  only  person  in  that 

part  of  the  country  to  own  a  "  show  farm  ")  being 

171 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

very  anxious  to  please  the  farmers.  Little  Perkins 
stood  up,  with  bright  shining  eyes  and  bright  shining 
bald  head,  in  an  appallingly  obtrusive  check  suit, 
and  made  a  most  remarkable  speech. 

"Friends,  Romans,  countrymen,"  he  said,  with 
taking  flippancy.  "  My  first  acquaintance  with  you 
was  in  rolling  out  a  spiel  about  my  corn-husker. 
Now  I'm  wise  to  the  fact  that  that  corn-husker  won't 
husk  corn  ;  because  I've  tried  it  I  just  brought  that 
along  to  help  us  get  acquainted.  The  thing  I  want 
is  your  Prince  Charles  Cypress  Company  bonds." 

The  assembly,  who  had  individually  been  supplied 
with  hot  frankfurters,  sandwiches  and  coffee,  stopped 
eating  in  astonishment. 

"And  I'm  going  to  get 'em.  How  do  I  know? 
Because  I'm  wise  to  the  fact  that  all  you  old  sports 
here  know  this  one  thing,  if  you  don't  know  any- 
thing else,  and  that  is  that  the  Prince  Charles  Cypress 
Company  may  be  a  very  fine  company,  but  they 
don't  cut  cypress" 

He  looked  triumphantly  about  him.  There  was  a 
silence.  Then  some  one  Perkins  had  previously 
subsidized  for  the  purpose  began  to  applaud,  and  in 
three  seconds  the  place  was  in  an  uproar. 

"  Now,  I  don't  want  to  pull  off  any  personal  allu- 

172 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

sions,"  went  on  the  speaker,  "  but  this  second-mort- 
gage bond  issue  looks  like  underhand  work.  The 
good  old-fashioned  gold  brick  game." 

"  What's  your  game?"  cried  some  one  in  the  rear 
of  the  barn. 

"  Now,"  thundered  Perkins,  exultantly,  "  now 
we're  coming  to  it.  My  game  is  to  cut  cypress. 
And  your  game — your  game  is  to  get  it  cut.  The 
whole  community  shrieks  for  it.  The  thing  that  you 
all  want  more  than  the  bonds  and  the  income  from 
them  is  the  boom  that  is  going  to  come  when  the 
cypress  is  cut.  I  want  to  get  control  of  the  bond 
issue  so  that  I  can  control  the  whole  project." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  shouted  some  one,  safely  hidden. 

"  That's  the  question  !  Who  am  I  ?  I  represent 
the  greatest  lumbering  firm  in  the  United  States. 
Our  proposition  to  you  is  this :  We  offer  you  a  hun- 
dred dollars  apiece  for  the  bonds,  the  bonds  not  to  be 
delivered  to  us  but  sent  by  you  by  registered  mail 
to  a  reputable  national  bank,  which  will  send  you  a 
hundred  dollars  we  will  deposit  there  for  the  purpose. 
And  if  we  do  not  start  cutting  cypress  by  July  first, 
the  bank  is  to  return  your  bond  and  you  keep  the 
money" 

They  shouted  for  joy.  Perkins  instantly  pulled 

173 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

out  a  bundle  of  printed  agreements,  signed  in 
advance  by  his  firm.  These  agreements  stipulated 
that  the  bonds  were  to  be  sent,  with  the  understand- 
ing Perkins  had  proposed  in  his  speech,  by  a  certain 
date  to  a  well-known  national  bank  in  Norfolk. 
This  bank  was  to  have  the  privilege  of  collecting  on 
the  bonds  when  they  came  due  in  April,  if  ordered 
to  do  so  by  the  lumbering  firm,  and  returning  money 
instead  of  bonds  in  case  of  forfeit.  These  agree- 
ments, properly  witnessed,  formed  contracts.  Al- 
most every  man  signed  an  agreement.  When  Per- 
kins counted  them  all  after  every  one  had  left,  he 
found  they  had  nearly  two-thirds  of  the  bond  issue — 
enough  to  force  Rupert  to  relinquish  control  of  the 
timber-land. 

The  next  afternoon  Mr.  Rupert,  who  had  by  that 
time  heard  of  the  transaction  and  of  Morgan's  deal- 
ings with  Perkins,  called  the  young  man  into  his 
office  and,  in  four  words,  discharged  him. 


174 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WHEN  five  o'clock  came,  Morgan  gathered  to- 
gether all  the  little  trinkets  of  his  which  were 
at  the  bank  and  made  them  into  a  compact  bundle. 
Mr.  Peters  paused  in  the  midst  of  laving  his  hands. 

"Bless  my  soul,"  he  said.  "What  are  you 
doing?" 

"  I'm  leaving  this  evening." 

"Leav-ing  this  ev-ening,"  repeated  the  other, 
blankly. 

"  Mr.  Rupert  finds  he  has  no  further  use  for  my 
services." 

The  little  man  withdrew  his  hands  from  the  wash- 
bowl and  held  them  helplessly  in  front  of  him,  the 
water  dripping  on  the  floor.  He  paid  no  attention  to 
this  circumstance,  which  was  a  sure  sign  of  agitation 
in  him. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  it,"  he  said,  be- 
wildered. "  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  it" 

Holding  the  moist  hands  ridiculously  in  front  of 
him.  he  paced  up  and  down,  making  a  series  of 

175 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

sounds  with  his  tongue  against  the  roof  of  his 
mouth.  Then  he  stopped  suddenly  and  dried  the 
hands  with  extraordinary  energy. 

"  All  I  can  say  is,"  he  .ejaculated,  entirely  out  of 
breath.  "  All  I  can  say  is  that  Mr.  Rupert  is — I  hope 
I  have  a  proper  appreciation  of  the  respect  due  him 
as  my  employer — but  I  must  say  Mr.  Rupert  is  afoot." 

Overcome  by  this  wrenching  apart  of  his  dry, 
clock-like  little  soul,  Mr.  Peters  sat  down,  panting, 
on  his  high  stool  and  stared  with  feverish  lack  of 
comprehension  at  the  reversed  letters  on  the  glass  of 
the  teller's  window  before  him. 

Morgan  continued  with  his  packing.  When  he 
had  finished,  he  went  over  and  took  the  little  man  by 
the  hand. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said,  quietly.  "  Thanks  for  your 
sympathy." 

Mr.  Peters  opened  the  drawer  of  his  desk  and  took 
out  a  little  bound  book. 

"  Before  you  go,"  he  said,  without  looking  at  his 
companion,  "  I  want  to  present  you  with  Fuller's 
'  Spectral  Analysis  of  Comets.'  It  is  very  readable." 

He  pushed  it  into  Morgan's  hands.  The  young 
man  would  have  liked  to  refuse  it,  for  he  knew  the 

dry  piece  of  literature  was  one  of  the  other's  most 

176 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

treasured  possessions.  But  he  realized  it  would 
offend  him.  So  he  thanked  him  with  a  show  of 
much  pleasure  and  left  the  bank.  And  it  was  many 
a  day  before  he  again  passed  through  that  door. 

At  that  moment,  Mr.  Rupert,  sitting  in  his  library, 
called,  a  little  peremptorily,  to  his  wife  as  she  passed 
the  doorway. 

"  Mrs.  Rupert,"  he  said,  in  the  formal  way  he  spoke 
to  her  when  he  wished  to  say  anything  important. 
"  In  the  future  we  shall  not  ask  Mr.  Morgan  to  our 
house." 

There  was  a  complete  silence.  She  could  hear 
the  rain-drops  pattering  on  the  porch  roof.  She 
looked  at  him  calmly,  speculatively. 

"  I  have  already  asked  him,"  she  said,  at  length. 

"  You  will  then  be  so  good  as  to  make  arrange- 
ment to  postpone  his  coming  indefinitely." 

She  had  not  taken  her  questioning  eyes  from  him. 
He  returned  her  gaze  with  placid  composure. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  go  into  it.  I  have  dis- 
charged him  from  the  bank." 

She  closed  her  hands  and  opened  them  again. 

"  For  what  reason  ?  "  she  asked,  still  in  her  calm 

voice. 

177 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  As  I  say,"  he  returned,  evenly,  "  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  go  into  that." 

"  Very  well." 

She  picked  up  a  bit  of  paper  from  the  floor  and 
crumpling  it  up,  threw  it  into  the  fire. 

"  I  hope  this  is  fully  understood,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Rupert,  opening  his  magazine. 

"  I  hear  what  you  say.  Mr.  Morgan,  however,  is 
dining  here  to-night." 

"  Then  I  dine  somewhere  else." 

"  I,  of  course,  have  no  influence  over  your  actions." 

Down  went  the  magazine. 

"  Do  you  realize,"  he  demanded,  "  that  the  dinner 
we  are  giving  in  this  house  to-night  is  for  a  very 
honored  guest,  and  that  I  must  be  here  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  you  ought  to  be  here,"  she  said, 
calmly. 

He  paced  the  floor  in  a  fury  of  repressed  anger. 

"  Mrs.  Berry  Brown  is  a  very  rich  woman  and  a 
near  neighbor.  It  is  extremely  important  for  us  to 
cultivate  her." 

"  If  she  is  nice,"  assented  his  wife,  "  I  shall  be 
glad  to  have  her  here  as  often  as  she  will  come. 
But  I  shouldn't  say  it  was  important." 

"It  is  important,"  snapped  the  other,  impatiently. 
178 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  She  is  an  influential  person.  I  propose  to  be  at 
dinner  to-night  And  I  beg  you  to  notice  that  I  say 
now  Mr.  Morgan  is  not" 

His  wife  smiled  sweetly. 

"  The  difficulty  with  such  an  arrangement  is  that 
Mrs.  Brown  was  especially  asked  to  meet  Mr. 
Morgan." 

Rupert  stared  at  her  as  though  she  had  taken 
leave  of  her  senses. 

"  In  fact,"  she  went  on,  "  that  was  the  reason  why 
this  little  party  was  arranged." 

Her  husband,  a  seething  volcano,  turned  on  his 
heel  and  left  the  room. 

Mrs.  Rupert  had  had  no  intention  of  cultivating 
Mrs.  Berry  Brown.  When  Mrs.  Brown  had  bought 
the  farm  and  arranged  the  whole  outfit  in  the  ideal 
way  a  plaything  of  the  sort  ought  to  be  arranged  in 
order  to  be  a  plaything  and  not  a  work-place,  Mrs. 
Rupert,  while  she  felt  it  was  perhaps  incumbent  for 
her  to  call  on  the  newcomer,  had  decided  that  Mrs. 
Brown  was  a  little  exotic  and  perhaps  would  not 
appreciate  the  attention.  So  she  had  simply  post- 
poned it  indefinitely,  until  one  day  when  Mrs.  Rupert 
happened  to  be  shopping  at  one  of  the  village  stores, 

Mrs.  Brown  was  there  on  the  same  errand,  and  a 

179 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

community  of  interest  had  fostered  a  conversation 
between  them,  the  result  of  which  was  that  Mrs. 
Rupert  did  call  on  Mrs.  Brown,  an  attention  which 
the  latter  promptly  returned. 

To  Mrs.  Rupert's  surprise,  one  of  the  first  things 
her  new  neighbor  had  spoken  of  was  a  person  named 
Henry  Morgan.  The  former  lady  had  questioned 
her  delicately  to  discover  if  she  knew  the  young 
man's  real  identity.  But  Mrs.  Brown,  a  large  un- 
speculative  person,  who  had  spent  most  of  the  last 
ten  years  abroad  and  seemed  to  know  very  little  of 
affairs  in  her  own  country,  explained  that  her  only 
knowledge  of  him  was  that  a  distant  cousin,  Made- 
leine Graham,  had  asked  in  a  letter  whether  she  had 
met  him,  and  it  had  aroused  Mrs.  Brown's  curiosity. 
So  the  little  dinner  Mrs.  Rupert  had  been  planning 
for  a  future  date  had  materialized  immediately. 

Morgan  sat  beside  Mrs.  Brown  on  this  occasion, 
and  the  conversation  was  highly  satisfactory.  Mor- 
gan had  a  splendid  supply  of  perfectly  fine  sym- 
pathetic monosyllables,  which  made  very  good 
punctuation  points.  He  learned  volumes  of  things 
he  had  never  known  before  about  Mrs.  Brown's  past 
career.  His  mind  became  a  treasure  house  in  which 

she  filed  away  precious  thoughts.     He  learned  to 

1 80 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

know  her  least  whim  and  foible,  to  appreciate  the 
noble  heroism  of  her  life,  to  wonder  at  the  stupendous 
difficulties  and  trials  she  had  overcome,  to  be  initiated, 
in  a  word,  into  the  whole  secret  of  her  existence. 
Mr.  Rupert,  of  course,  who  sat  at  her  other  hand, 
received  many  of  these  confidences,  while  Morgan 
was  resting,  but  his  knowledge  of  the  subject  at  the 
end  of  the  dinner  was  fragmentary  as  compared 
with  that  of  his  former  employee.  The  dear  plump 
lady  was  a  good-natured,  if  untiring,  conversa- 
tionalist, however,  and  Morgan  had  a  lurking  idea, 
quite  a  distance  back  in  his  brain,  that  she  might  be 
amusing  after  the  first  rush  of  auto-biographical 
enthusiasm  had  worn  off,  so  he  bore  toward  her  no 
malignant  hatred. 

He  did  not  have  an  opportunity  to  talk  to  Mrs. 
Rupert  until  just  before  he  left,  and  then  she  could 
not  say  the  things  she  wanted  to  say,  because  they 
were  being  so  constantly  interrupted. 

"  And  your  evening  clothes,"  she  whispered,  sur- 
veying him  with  admiration.  "  Did  you  have  them 
concealed  about  your  person  somewhere  the  morn- 
ing we  found  you  on  the  beach  ?  " 

He  laughed. 

"  No.     Christmas  present.     Miss  Graham  asked 
181 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

me  what  I  wanted  and  I  told  her  to  contrive  to  get 
these  clothes  of  mine  and  send  them  to  me." 

She  smiled  and  disappeared.  And  presently 
Morgan  had  a  sensation,  which  quickened  his 
blood  and  made  his  heart  beat  fast.  Mrs.  Berry 
Brown  was  bustling  off  to  get  her  little  round  figure 
bundled  up  in  countless  wraps.  As  she  passed  by 
Morgan  she  paused,  beaming,  and  held  out  her 
hand. 

"  You  must  come  and  see  me,"  she  said.  "  You 
know  Madeleine  Graham,  don't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  said,  surprised. 

"  She  is  coming  to  see  me  in  a  couple  of  weeks. 
I  want  you  to  be  sure  and  come  to  see  me  then." 

He  said  simply  that  he  would.  But  if  Mrs.  Brown 
had  looked,  she  would  have  noticed  his  high  color. 


182 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  next  morning  at  half-past  nine  Mrs.  Rupert 
called  up  Morgan  on  the  telephone  at  Miss 
Torrey's,  and  was  informed  by  that  lady  that  the 
young  man  had  left  with  all  his  possessions  and 
gone  over  to  live  at  the  place  he  had  bought  from 
Alexander  Berry.  Mrs.  Rupert  had  a  horse  har- 
nessed to  her  break  cart  and  went  there  immediately. 
She  found  Morgan  endeavoring  to  repair  the  de- 
crepit front  steps. 

"  Go  on,"  she  said,  when  he  had  tied  her  horse, 
"  let  me  see  you  carpenter." 

He  gazed  at  the  steps  helplessly. 

"  It  looked  so  easy,"  he  confessed,  "  when  I  started." 

She  laid  down  a  cardinal  principle. 

"  No  step  is  safe,"  she  said,  "  unless  it  is  supported 
at  both  ends." 

"  But  the  board  is  not  long  enough." 

"  Get  one  that  is." 

He  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  There  is  no  such  thing,  apparently.  After  they 
made  these  steps  they  stopped  making  long  boards." 

183 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Let  me  help,"  she  said.     "  I  have  an  idea." 

He  scoffed  at  the  possibility,  but  she  discovered  a 
long  board  on  the  chicken  house  which  she  thought 
could  be  replaced  by  two  without  damage  to  the  par- 
ticular style  of  architecture  in  which  it  was  built.  He 
saw  the  wisdom  of  the  idea.  With  this  board  they 
finally  managed  to  repair  the  steps.  The  board  was 
split  at  both  ends,  and  a  certain  percentage  of  the 
nails  instead  of  going  all  the  way  in  had  bent  over 
and  were  embedded  sideways  in  the  wood,  but  the 
step  would  stand  the  weight  of  two  persons  with  ap- 
parent safety. 

"What  a  satisfaction,"  he  observed,  "is  a  work 
well  done." 

She  laughed. 

"  Let's  sit  where  we  can  look  at  something  else," 
she  said. 

They  went  in  and  warmed  their  numbed  hands 
before  the  fire  he  built  up  in  the  fireplace. 

"  The  reason  for  this  unconventional  visit  of  mine," 
she  said  at  length,  "  is  to  find  out  all  about  it." 

"  My  separation  from  the  bank  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I  thought  you  were  very  efficient." 

"  What  little  there  was  to  do,  I  think  I  did  well 
enough,"  he  said. 

184 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Then  why  were  you  discharged  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  told." 

"But  you  know." 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  "  I  know.  It  would  be  a 
very  difficult  thing  for  me  to  go  into  with  you.  I  am 
sure  you  will  get  a  more  satisfactory  account  of  it 
from  Mr.  Rupert." 

She  flushed. 

"  It  is  a  humiliation  to  me  to  have  to  admit  that 
Mr.  Rupert  would  not  tell  me." 

"  Then "  he  began,  and  stopped. 

"  I  know  what  you  were  going  to  say.  You  were 
going  to  say  '  Why  should  you  ? '  " 

"  I  was  going  to  say,"  he  answered,  "  that  telling 
you  my  side  of  the  case  would  necessarily  involve 
stating  my  own  interpretation  of  certain  acts  of  your 
husband." 

"What  you  mean,"  she  said  in  icy  tones,  "  is  that 
it  would  involve  telling  some  of  the  things  he  has 
done.  I  understand  you  perfectly." 

He  did  not  answer. 

"  I  am  perfectly  well  aware,"  she  said  at  length, 
unemotionally,  "  that  my  husband  is  not  honest" 

A  chill  ran  through  him.     He  did  not  look  at  her, 

but  rose  to  move  a  log  in  the  fireplace. 

185 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"I  know  that  statement,"  she  went  on,  "  was  like 
a  dash  of  cold  water  to  you,  and  I  don't  know  why 
I  made  it.  But  I  have  gone  on  for  two  years  now 
knowing  this,  and  never  telling  a  soul." 

"  It  was  imprudent  to  tell  me." 

"  Not  imprudent,"  she  returned,  bitterly,  "  but  I 
should  have  had  more  dignity.  Wild  horses  ought 
not  to  have  been  able  to  drag  it  from  me.  I  know 
that." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Morgan  steadily,  "  that  he 
is  not  honest.  I  will  not  take  your  assertion  for  it." 

She  rose  and  stood  before  him. 

"  Morgan  Holt,  I  am  a  poor  wife  to  this  man.  I 
hate  the  floor  he  walks  on.  I  hate  his  house,  his 
food  and  his  money.  He  speculates  and  does  not 
hesitate  to  use  the  bank's  money  in  a  tight  place. 
I  also  know  that  he  never  intended  to  cut  the  timber 
in  the  swamp.  I  don't  know  what  his  game  was, 
but  I  understand  some  outsiders  have  spoiled  it,  and 
that  you  had  something  to  do  with  it.  There  is  no 
use  trying  to  gloss  over  the  thing.  Everybody  will 
know  it  soon." 

"  If  you  understand  that  I  had  something  to  do 
with  it,"  he  observed,  "  then  you  have  the  whole 

story  of  why  I  left  the  bank." 

1 86 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  I  felt  that  was  it."  Her  eyes  blazed.  "  But 
imagine  my  own  husband  discharging  you,  and  I 
positively  helpless  to  find  out  why.  I  had  to  know. 
Some  one  had  to  tell  me.  It  makes  me  nearly  crazy 
to  be  treated  as  a  child." 

She  walked  over  and  stood  with  her  back  to  him, 
looking  out  of  the  window. 

"  His  one  thought  in  life,  his  religion,  you  ought 
to  call  it,  is  himself.  He  must  impress  the  world 
with  his  superior  standing.  He  must  impress  me 
with  it,  with  all  his  fatuous  complacency,  as  if  I  did 
not  know  his  heart  like  a  book,  beneath  the  veneer." 

She  came  calmly  back  to  the  fire  and  sat  down 
with  perfect  self-possession  before  it. 

"  I  think  I  do  not  care,"  she  said,  in  a  very  quiet 
voice  now,  "  what  you  think  of  this  tirade  of  mine. 
I  might  have  explained  it  to  those  andirons  there, 
and  it  would  have  served  the  same  purpose.  You 
can  see,"  she  added,  smiling  faintly,  "  the  pressure 
has  gone  down  somewhat." 

He  sat  on  the  arm  of  a  chair  near  her. 

"  God  bless  the  man  who  invented  safety-valves, ' 
he  said. 

She  smiled. 

"  I  have  tried  your  patience,"  she  observed,  "  but 
187 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

suppose  this  pretty  little  girl  you  are  going  to 
marry  turned  out,  after  you  had  married  her,  to 
have  no  sympathy  with  you,  or  understanding  of 
you,  and  did  things  you  despised  her  for  ;  and  you 
had  to  stand  up  before  the  world  every  day  and  say 
with  sincerity,  '  This  is  my  wife,  my  satisfactory 
wife.'  Suppose  that,"  she  added,  "  and  you  under- 
stand me." 

He  nodded. 

"  I  have  supposed,"  he  said  presently. 

"  Then  you  have  done  your  duty  for  to-day."  She 
took  up  her  coat  from  the  chair  where  it  lay.  "  Mrs. 
Rupert  will  have  to  go  now." 

"  Oh,  no." 

"  Morgan  Holt,"  she  remonstrated,  "  I'm  hungry." 

"  Oh,"  he  cried,  "  please  stay  to  lunch." 

"  I  will." 

"  Funny  thing,"  he  observed,  "  as  soon  as  a  fellow 
gets  in  a  great  palatial  house  like  this,  his  friends 
begin  dropping  in  to  meals." 

She  sniffed. 

"Where  are  the  signs  of  the  meal?"  she  asked 
sweetly. 

"  I  have  a  cook,"  he  explained.  "  That's  three- 
fourths  of  the  battle." 

1 88 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"Where?" 

He  nodded  to  her. 

"  Oh  1  Mrs.  Rupert.  Charmed,"  she  cried,  and 
tucked  up  her  sleeves  in  a  twinkling. 

"  Exhibit  '  A  ' — the  cook.  Exhibit «  B,'  the  stove." 
She  took  off  the  lid,  and  gazed  into  the  black  depths. 
"  Wood,  Caliban  ;  and  papers  ;  and  matches." 

She  poked  about  in  the  pantry  with  a  disdainful 
housewifely  air,  touching  every  surface  first  with  the 
tip  of  her  finger  and  dusting  her  hands  afterward 
with  exaggerated  daintiness.  She  put  her  nose  into 
every  can  and  jar  and  box  in  the  pantry,  whether  it 
seemed  promising  of  food  or  not,  and  by  the  time 
Morgan  had  made  the  fire  she  had  all  the  food  out  on 
the  table,  and  was  making  a  great  pretense  of  in- 
decision as  to  what  they  should  have.  This  was  just 
for  effect, — just  as  the  man  in  the  circus  who  wants 
you  to  understand  he  is  going  to  do  a  hard  turn 
makes  a  good  show  of  getting  ready  for  it  before- 
hand. 

"  If  I  can  get  a  luncheon  out  of  this  array  of 
things,''  she  observed,  scornfully,  "  I  shall  be  sur- 
prised." 

"Modesty,"  he  exclaimed,  approvingly,  "is  a  very 

commendable  virtue." 

189 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

She  snapped  her  fingers  at  him. 

"  I'm  not  modest,"  she  cried.  "  I'm  scathingly 
critical.  If  you  weren't  so  impervious  !  " 

"  I  bought  a  great  many  expensive  canned  things 
this  morning,"  he  explained  apologetically.  "  I 
thought  the  larder  was  unnecessarily  sumptuous." 

"  No,  you're  wrong  there.  That's  the  beauty  of 
it.  There  isn't  one  unnecessary  or  superfluous  thing 
in  it." 

"  But  this  conversation,"  he  exclaimed,  "  doesn't 
advance  the  cause  of  lunch.  Perhaps  I  had  better 
take  charge." 

"  Stand  aside,  boy.  Grandmother  Rupert  will  at- 
tend to  this." 

He  laughed. 

"  Grandmother,  indeed.  Married  three  years,  and 
only  twenty  when  you  were  married." 

"  Nineteen,"  she  corrected.  "  Please  put  a  log  of 
wood  in  the  stove." 

He  did  that. 

"  Morgan,"  she  demanded  presently,  "  what  are 
you  going  to  live  on  now  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  can  get  something  else  to  do,"  he  said 
thoughtfully,  "  although  I  am  sure  I  don't  see  what 

just  now." 

190 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  I  suppose  you  have  a  little  money  put  by." 

"  Yes,  about  twelve  dollars." 

"  Morgan  Holt !  "  she  cried. 

"  I  can  live  here  on  almost  nothing." 

She  frowned,  and  was  silent  for  a  long  while. 

"  Don't  worry  at  all  about  me,"  he  went  on.  "  I 
always  fall  on  my  feet.  I  shall  get  money  out  of  the 
lumber  company  some  day." 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  she  again  took 
her  coat  out  of  the  chair. 

"  I  don't  know  when  I  am  ever  going  to  see  you 
again,"  she  observed  as  he  held  it  for  her  to  slip  into. 
"  I  can't  come  to  visit  you  here,  and  Mr.  Rupert 
seems  to  object  to  your  presence  at  my  house.  For 
that  reason  I  braved  the  conventions  and  visited  you 
to-day.  I  had  intended  to  be  absolutely  correct  and 
take  you  driving  with  me,  but  since  no  one  knows 
where  I  came  this  has  done  equally  well." 

"  I  am  indeed  more  than  indebted  to  you." 

"Of  course,"  she  remarked,  "I  am  apt  to  be 
tragic  at  times,  but  if  properly  managed  I  soon  be- 
come rational  again,  as  you  observe." 

He  laughed.  She  stepped  up  into  her  break  cart 
and  gathered  up  the  reins. 

"  Now,  remember,"  she  cried  smiling,  "  if  you  find 
191 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

at  any  time  that  you  just  have  to  see  me,  write  me 

two  words  in  a  letter,  and  I  will  come,  bringing  you 

a  glass  of  jelly." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  "  I  like  jelly." 

She    nodded,  touched  her  horse,  and  drove  off 

down  the  road. 


192 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HE  watched  her  with  interest  as  she  drove  away. 
She  was  a  different  person  from  the  people  he 
had  been  used  to.  There  was  a  pleasant  air  of  in- 
born gentility  about  her,  the  inheritance  from  many 
generations.  It  lent  a  graceful  distinction  to  her. 
Her  manners  seemed  to  emanate  from  somewhere 
within  her  and  to  be  prompted  by  feelings  of  con- 
sideration and  generosity  and  appreciation  of  the 
people  about  her.  Whereas,  he  fancied  that  the 
breeding  of  the  people  he  had  been  brought  up  with 
was  a  little  more  superficial — a  matter  for  the  most 
part  of  sophistication,  a  knowledge  of  what  to  do 
and  when  to  do  it,  a  nice  distinction  of  whom  to  be 
nice  to  and  how  to  do  it  in  the  proper  way,  a  keen 
appreciation  of  all  the  latest  mannerisms  and  affecta- 
tions, and  an  unerring  knowledge  of  the  approved 
circumlocutions  for  expressing  ideas  that  are  ex- 
pressed otherwise  by  shop-folk  and  plainer  citizens. 

In  other  words,  they  wore  their  manners  in  much 
the  same  way  as  the  judges  at  a  horse  show  wear 

193 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

their  official  badges.  It  is  a  means  of  admission  to 
the  exhibition  ring,  and  an  explanation  of  their 
presence  there  when  they  have  entered  and  bask  in 
the  full  glory  of  the  sacred  precincts.  Their  manners 
were  apt  to  rest  upon  their  shoulders  with  the  same 
discomfort,  perhaps,  that  their  more  formal  clothes 
did,  and,  when  opportunity  offered  to  loose  the 
bonds  and  don  something  a  little  easier  and  more 
natural,  they  cast  off  their  graces  and  appeared  in  a 
sort  of  unmannered  dishabille.  He  had  seen  his 
friends — nay,  Madeleine  herself — treat  people  who 
had  no  claim  to  social  equality  (or  who  had  claims 
but  no  foundation  for  them)  with  a  good  old  Stone- 
Age  straightforwardness  that  had  not  a  trace  of 
aristocracy  or  manners  or  breeding,  or  any  such 
palliation. 

But  Mrs.  Rupert  found  no  great  distinction  be- 
tween human  beings.  There  was  no  pride  or  self- 
aggrandizement  that  would  prevent  her  from  pick- 
ing up  the  old  peddler,  black  cloth  bag  and  all,  and 
driving  with  him  along  the  public  highway  to  wher- 
ever he  wanted  to  go.  There  was  no  sense  of 
superiority  that  would  prevent  her  from  visiting  the 
tenant-house  on  her  husband's  farm,  when  the 

mother  of  the  half  dozen  infants  there  was  ill,  and 

194 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

dressing  each  one  of  those  soiled  offsprings,  one  after 
the  other.  She  may  not  have  enjoyed  the  process, 
and  she  may  have  hurried  home  to  soap  and  water 
with  relief,  but  she  felt  they  were  inhabitants  of  the 
same  world  as  she  was,  and  were  entitled  to  her 
ministrations. 

He  felt  that,  if  he  had  learned  nothing  else  from 
his  pilgrimage  to  view  the  world,  the  example  of  this 
sort  of  consideration  for  every  one  was  worth  it  all. 
A  man  can  live  along  in  one  environment  which  de- 
pends for  its  existence  on  the  permanency  of  the  idea 
(however  glibly  that  idea  may  be  paraphrased)  that 
certain  people  are  immeasurably  superior  to  the  rest 
of  the  world,  and  that  the  rest  of  the  world  must  be 
treated  from  that  standpoint,  and  not  be  sensible  of 
the  selfishness  and  narrowness  of  such  a  life.  But 
the  example  of  some  one  diligently  endeavoring  to 
treat  all  the  people  she  came  in  contact  with  (while 
thoroughly  aware  of  the  difference  in  intelligence, 
and  physical  cleanliness,  and  sometimes  in  moral 
instincts  that  existed  between  them)  as  if  there  was 
an  equality  of  something  inside  them  all — as  if  the 
atom  called  a  soul  in  the  bag-peddler  was  indistin- 
guishable from  the  atom  called  a  soul  in  her  :  that 
example  gave  him  a  new  view  of  life. 

195 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

It  was  well  for  him  to  have  such  an  optimistic 
thought  now  and  then  when  reviewing,  in  his  mind, 
his  voluntary  exile  from  comfort  and  home,  and  en- 
deavoring to  find  out  whether  it  was  proving  worth 
while.  It  must  be  confessed  that  he  had  entered  into 
the  arrangement  without  deep  thought  upon  it.  It 
had  been  impulse,  mostly,  that  prompted  him, 
backed  only  by  a  certain  excitement  over  a  very 
charming  girl  and  by  an  intuition  that  he  was  doing 
a  necessary  thing  to  overcome  a  difficulty  that  had 
been  a  source  of  worry  to  him  for  some  time.  It  was 
that  intuition  that  made  him  persist  in  the  arrange- 
ment. 

At  times  he  grew  melancholy  over  the  whole 
project ;  as  any  one,  branching  out  uncertainly  in  a 
new  direction,  is  apt  to  do.  His  mission  had  thus  far 
been  more  or  less  fruitless,  he  somehow  thought,  as 
fitting  him  for  his  future  life.  He  had  learned  more 
of  people  and  of  business,  it  is  true.  He  had  been 
training  his  mind  to  the  work  of  accomplishing 
things.  But  was  it  logical  for  a  man  to  prepare  him- 
self for  one  life  by  leading  another  ?  Should  a  man 
desiring,  perhaps,  to  be  a  railroad  president  first 
study  the  trade  of  a  cobbler  ?  It  was  a  grave  ques- 
tion. One  great  objection  to  this  new  life  was  that 

196 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

he  found,  instead  of  smoothing  the  way  for  the  life 
he  was  to  return  to,  it  pointed  out  all  the  defects  and 
deficiencies  of  it.  He  would  never  be  able  to  take 
up  the  thread  of  his  old  existence  with  the  same  com- 
fort and  complacency  %as  before. 

One  dull,  leaden  morning  he  had  been  threshing 
out  this  problem  while  chopping  a  great  pile  of 
wood,  endeavoring  to  persuade  himself  that  he  was 
going  forward  in  the  business  of  life,  and  not  back- 
ward ;  that  he  was  having  an  enjoyable  time.  At 
length  he  decided  to  give  up  the  wood-chopping, 
which  is  conducive  to  too  much  introspection,  and 
undertake  some  task  which  required  more  ingenuity 
and  thought  upon  the  condition  of  the  work  than 
upon  the  condition  of  the  worker.  There  was  the 
least  flurry  of  snow  in  the  air ;  and  as  John  Ander- 
son had  explained  to  him  that  when  the  snow  was 
on  the  ground  he  could  trap  rabbits  more  easily,  he 
got  some  old  boards  and  proceeded,  with  much 
effort,  to  put  together  a  rabbit-trap,  following  the 
rules  the  landlord  had  laid  down.  When  it  was 
finished  the  most  that  could  be  said  of  it  was  that 
it  was  a  rabbit-trap.  It  was  by  no  means  a  piece  of 
carpentry,  but  it  had  the  appearance  of  being  strong 

enough  to  hold  any  rabbit.     In  construction  it  was 

197 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

simply  a  box  about  a  yard  long  and  narrow  enough 
so  that  the  rabbit  could  not  turn  about  in  it.  At  the 
far  end  the  bait  rested  on  a  trigger  which  let  down 
a  wooden  gate  behind  the  little  animal,  preventing 
him  forever  from  going  out  by  that  same  door 
wherein  he  went. 

By  three  in  the  afternoon  the  evidences  of  snow 
were  even  more  pronounced.  He  took  the  trap 
under  his  arm  and  started  off  into  the  woods. 
Along  the  trail  that  led  up  to  the  swamp  he  had 
seen  many  rabbits  at  various  times,  and  he  decided 
that  this  would  be  a  propitious  place  to  set  the  trap. 
After  a  great  deal  of  indecision  as  to  where  to  put  it 
so  that  the  rabbits  would  be  certain  not  to  overlook 
it,  and  the  chance  passer-by  would  be  equally  certain 
to  overlook  it,  he  finally  discovered  a  spot  which 
commended  itself  to  him,  and  placed  it  in  what  he 
conceived  to  be  the  proper  position.  This  done,  in 
spite  of  saner  thoughts,  he  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  conceal  himself  and  wait  to  see 
whether  a  rabbit  would  go  into  it.  He  was  crouch- 
ing behind  some  bushes  peering  out  at  the  trap  with 
boyish  eagerness,  when  suddenly  all  the  primeval 
instincts  of  the  chase  were  driven  from  his  mind  by 

a   pleasant   laugh   from   some   one  who  had  been 

198 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

standing  on  the  pathway  watching  him  with  amused 
curiosity. 

"  Morgan,  what  are  you  doing?" 

It  was  Mrs.  Rupert.  He  looked  up  and  began  to 
laugh. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  flushing  consciously,  "  I  was 
catching  rabbits.  I  am  still  not  quite  grown  up,"  he 
added,  apologetically. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  were  sitting  there 
watching  for  a  rabbit  to  go  into  your  trap  ?  " 

He  could  see  the  cheerful  amusement  in  her  eyes. 
But  she  was  so  even-tempered  that  you  could  not 
resent  her  laughing  at  you. 

"You  must  make  allowances  for  me,"  he  said. 
"  All  these  things  are  new  to  me,  and  I  have  a  city- 
bred  curiosity  to  see  what  does  happen.  Did  I  put 
that  thing  in  the  right  place  ?  "  he  asked,  suddenly. 

"Not  at  all,"  she  replied,  glancing  at  the  trap. 
"  It  would  be  months,  maybe  years,  before  you 
caught  a  rabbit  in  it." 

His  face  fell. 

"Why  is  that?"  he  asked,  crestfallen. 

She  smiled,  with  her  entertaining  air  of  elder  and 
settled  wisdom. 

"  I  must  show  you,"  she  said. 
199 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

She  walked  through  the  trees,  looking  about  her 
attentively.  At  length  she  paused. 

"  Here,"  she  cried. 

He  followed  her.  She  had  found  a  narrow,  hardly 
discernible  track  through  the  undergrowth,  where 
tiny  feet  had  worn  a  straight  path. 

"  That,"  she  said,  "  is  a  rabbit  lead.  They  always 
run  along  the  same  path.  So  your  trap  over  there 
in  the  bushes  wouldn't  be  apt  to  attract  much  at- 
tention." 

He  looked  eagerly  at  the  worn  streak  across  the 
sparse  grass. 

"  You  are  a  continual  education  to  me,"  he  cried, 
and  went  after  his  trap. 

Under  her  direction  he  set  it  properly  in  place. 

"  I  hope  I  show,"  he  said,  when  this  operation  was 
finished,  "  how  very  fortunate  I  consider  myself  at 
having  met  you." 

"All  this  joy  simply  on  account  of  the  rabbit- 
trap  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  quizzical  smile. 

She  was  very  interesting  when  she  was  making 
fun  of  him.  She  had  the  air  of  having  intended  to 
say  something  else  and  of  having  surprised  herself 
by  saying  what  she  did.  That  would  make  her 

laugh,  and,  when   she   laughed,   her   face,   usually 

200 


"iT    MAKES    ONE    FEEL   SO    YOUNG  " 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

calm  and  serene,  with  a  touch  of  almost  matronly 
dignity,  was  the  face  of  a  vivacious  girl,  mischievous 
and  bubbling  over  with  good  humor. 

He  laughed  at  her. 

"  You  are  always  twisting  my  remarks  about  to 
make  them  mean  something  else,"  he  said. 

"  Never  mind,  what  I  should  have  said  was,  I  hope 
you  catch  a  rabbit."  She  held  out  her  hand.  "I 
believe  it  is  beginning  to  snow  now.  That  is  a  sure 
sign  of  catching  a  rabbit." 

The  air  was  presently  full  of  gently  falling  snow. 

"This  is  glorious,"  she  cried,  gaily.  "The reason 
I  came  out  on  such  a  dull  day  was  in  the  hope  that 
it  would  snow  before  I  got  back.  It  makes  me  feel 
so  young  and  care-free." 

"  If  I  were  not  attired,"  he  said,  "  in  a  flannel  shirt 
and  corduroys,  I  should  walk  back  with  you." 

"  You  will  walk  back  with  me  anyway,"  she  cried, 
decisively.  "  I  never  heard  of  such  aristocratic 
ideas.  Do  you  suppose  that  patent  leather  shoes 
and  a  stiff  hat  would  make  you  more  entertaining  ? 
It  isn't  your  beauty  so  much  as  your  conversation  I 
like  you  for." 

"  Some  people  like  me  best  for  one,  some  for  the 

other,"  he  returned,  impudently. 

201 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"You  are  most  brazen,"  she  said,  admiringly. 
"  But  since  you  are  going  home  with  me,  suppose  we 
go  along  this  path  through  the  woods.  I  hate  to 
waste  both  your  beauty  and  your  conversation  on 
such  a  deserted  place,"  she  added,  smiling,  "  but  I 
think  it  will  be  pleasanter." 

The  snow  fell  steadily.  When  they  came  out  on 
the  road  they  found  the  ground  heavily  covered.  It 
bid  fair  to  be  a  big  storm.  The  flakes  were  thick, 
and  a  wind  had  sprung  up  from  the  northwest  that 
sent  them  swirling  and  flurrying  in  great  white 
clouds  across  the  fields.  The  windward  side  of  trees 
and  fences  was  covered  with  layers  of  snow.  When 
they  came  to  the  Ruperts'  house  it  was  already  dark. 

"  Mr.  Rupert  is  in  New  York,"  she  said,  as  they 
walked  up  to  the  house. 

"  The  town  paper  said  he  was  planning  to  go.  It 
is  impossible  to  have  private  affairs  in  this  town." 

"  Then  I  shall  give  them  an  item  for  the  social 
column  by  asking  you  to  dinner,  and  if  you  say  flan- 
nel shirt  or  corduroy  suit,  I  shall  probably  never 
speak  to  you  again." 

"  In  that  event  those  two  words  will  not  cross  my 
lips.  But  if  Mr.  Rupert — objects  so  strenuously " 

"  It  is  your  presence  that  seems  to  bore  him.     I 

202 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

don't  think  he  minds  my  being  bored  by  it.  At  any 
rate,"  she  said,  frowning  a  little,  "  I  don't  think  I  will 
be  bound  by  such  a  restriction." 

"  Well,"  he  replied,  "  I  am  very  anxious  to  stay." 

They  kicked  the  snow  off  their  shoes  at  the  porch 
and  shook  off  the  drifts  from  their  coats  and  hats. 
Within  the  maid  finished  the  operation.  A  fine 
wood-fire  burned  in  the  hall  fireplace. 

"  I  will  leave  you  to  your  own  devices  for  a  while," 
Mrs.  Rupert  said.  "  I  am  going  to  prepare  a 
wonderful  salad  for  us.  I  discovered  it  the  other  day 
in  an  old  cook  book.  I  am  becoming  perfectly  de- 
voted to  it." 

There  is  nothing  more  charming  to  a  man  than 
for  a  woman  to  want  to  share  with  him  a  thing  she 
likes.  Had  she  announced  that  she  intended  to  pre- 
pare something  she  knew  he  was  fond  of,  he  would 
have  been  pleased  ;  but  when  she  said  it  was  some- 
thing that  appealed  to  her,  he  felt  a  glow  of  warm 
enthusiasm  for  it.  And  that  salad,  when  he  ate  it, 
came  very  close  to  being  the  very  best  salad  he  ever 
ate. 

It  was  a  very  comfortable  meal.  The  wind  sang 
outside,  and  the  snow  blew  in  soft  flurries  against 

the  window-panes.     The  fire  of  cannel  coal  in  the 

203 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

grate  cracked  and  burst  and  burned  with  bright, 
cordial  flames.  The  red-shaded  candles  on  the  table 
threw  a  ruddy  glow  on  the  white  cloth  and  made 
every  bit  of  silver  reflect  tiny  points  of  ruby  light. 
Mrs.  Rupert  had  changed  to  a  simple  dark  dress,  cut 
so  that  it  showed  her  white,  full  neck  and  her 
pleasantly  rounded  arms.  The  maid  brought  in  a 
roast  chicken,  so  perfectly  browned  that  it  looked  as 
if  it  might  have  been  an  imitation  chicken  painted 
and  varnished.  And  Morgan,  in  his  corduroy  suit 
and  flannel  shirt,  but  perfectly  contented  withal,  sat 
at  the  head  of  the  table  and  carved  the  fowl,  with  a 
pleasant,  domestic  sense  of  proprietorship  over  every- 
thing. 

"You  are  a  very  impressive  boy,"  she  said,  watch- 
ing him  with  interest.  "  You  carve  with  the  ease  of 
a  hardened  old  householder." 

"  This  is  the  sort  of  thing  I  like,"  he  cried,  eagerly. 
"  I  like  a  great  big  knife  and  a  great  big  fork  and  a 
poor  defenseless  chicken."  He  paused  and  gestic- 
ulated with  those  two  instruments.  "  I  am  a  prosaic 
person.  I  like  comfort — physical  comfort — I  like 
the  wind  roaring  against  the  shutters  outside,  the  fire 
crackling  hot  in  the  grate,  hot  food  steaming  on  the 

table,   hot "      He    paused    and    laughed   con- 

204 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

sciously.     "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.     "  What 
part  of  this  chicken  did  you  say  you  liked  best  ?  " 

He  gave  her  plate  to  the  maid. 

"  I  wish  you  would  stop  me  when  I  begin  to 
rhapsodize  like  that.  I  forget  what  I  am  doing. 
But  I  was  meant  for  a  comfortable  middle  class 
householder — who  prefers  to  sit  down  after  his  din- 
ner with  his  feet  on  the  fender  and  read  until  he  is 
sleepy,  rather  than  to  put  on  a  stiff  shirt  and  an  un- 
comfortable collar  and  go  out  and  yawn  his  head  off 
surrounded  by  palms  and  a  band." 

"  You  are  the  worst  type  of  person  to  be  an 
aristocrat,"  she  said,  thoughtfully. 

"A  very  bad  type,  I  admit,  but  I  must  over- 
come it." 

She  held  up  her  hands  and  laughed. 

"  Don't  try  to  overcome  your  virtues." 

"  But  the  man  who  sits  calmly  at  home  soon  be- 
comes stagnant.  He  gets  in  a  rut." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"What  of  the  man  who  goes  about  during  his 
natural  sleeping  hours  attending  functions  that  bore 
him,  talking  to  ambitionless  people,  and  eating 
indigestible  food;  and,  following  that,  sleeps  habitu- 
ally until  noon.  Isn't  that  getting  into  a  rut  ?  " 

205 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  But  he  is  keeping  alive  to  what  is  going  on  in 
the  world." 

"  No,"  she  returned,  "  only  to  what  is  going  on  in 
a  small  part  of  it.  A  man  who  keeps  alive  to  what 
is  going  on  in  the  world  is  a  man  who  knows  what 
is  happening  between  sunrise  and  sunset.  That  is 
the  time  when  men  accomplish  things." 

"  You  believe  then,"  he  said,  "  that  work  is  the 
secret  of  happiness." 

She  looked  up  with  a  smile. 

"  Haven't  you  found  it  so?"  she  said. 

He  thought  a  moment. 

"  I  have  been  happier  here,  I  think,  than  I  have 
been  anywhere.  I  experience  a  feeling  of  content- 
ment here,"  he  added,  "  which  never  quite  occurred 
anywhere  else." 

She  put  her  elbows  on  the  table  and  rested  her 
chin  on  her  hands. 

"You  have  just  about  come  to  the  fork  in 
the  road,  haven't  you  ? "  she  inquired,  in  a  mo- 
ment. 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I   mean  that  you  are  beginning  to  find  that  the 

difference  between  life  in  Prince  Charles  and  life  in 

206 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

New  York  is  fundamental ;  and  you  have  to  choose 
between  them." 

"  Choose  between  them  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  Why, 
the  choice  was  made  for  me  when  I  was  born  as  I  was." 

She  picked  up  her  spoon  and  pointed  it  at  him 
with  a  gesture  that  demanded  attention. 

"  A  time  is  coming  then  when  you  will  have  to 
decide  all  over  again  for  yourself.  You  have  dis- 
covered here  the  satisfaction  of  work  and  the  ex- 
hilaration of  playing  the  game  on  an  equal  footing 
with  the  rest  of  the  world.  And  having  done  that  it 
is  going  to  be  hard  for  you  to  step  back  into  a  rigid 
social  system  which  has  established  rules  for  you  to 
follow  whether  you  like  them  or  not,  and  gives  you 
no  opportunity  for  ambition  outside  its  bounds,  no 
opportunity  to  reach  forward  and  grasp  anything 
worth  while." 

Morgan  made  a  row  of  perpendicular  marks  on 
the  cloth  with  his  thumb  nail. 

"  I  have  always  thought,"  he  replied,  "  that  I  was 
a  little  cramped  up  there." 

"  It  is  very  cramped.  It  is  as  if  you  were  a  strong 
Percheron  exercising  at  the  end  of  a  rope  in  a 
paddock  by  being  allowed  to  trot  around  a  small 

circle." 

207 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Well,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  I  have  to  go  back  to 
it.  Perhaps  by  my  own  efforts  I  can  make  the  circle 
I  exercise  in  a  little  wider." 

"  The  only  thing  to  do  is  to  jump  over  the  pad- 
dock fence,"  she  said,  decisively. 

Her  words  stuck  in  his  mind.  Jump  over  the 
paddock  fence.  It  had  a  fine,  dashing,  revolutionary 
sound.  But  why  should  she  think  it  was  necessary 
for  him  to  escape  from  anything  ?  In  his  life  and  at 
his  command  were  all  the  things  that  mortal  man 
wishes  for  most.  The  natural  supposition  would  be 
that,  rather  than  attempt  to  get  out,  he  would  in- 
crease the  height  of  the  fence  to  keep  others  from 
coming  in. 

"  Don't  you  know,"  he  asked,  coming  back  to  the 
subject,  just  before  he  left,  to  try  to  make  his  way 
home  through  the  snow,  "  that  I  am  considered  the 
most  fortunate  young  man  in  Manhattan  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  are  fortunate,"  she  said,  turning  her 
fine,  cheerful  eyes  toward  him,  "  but  it  is  because 
you  have  intellect  and  energy  and  ambition.  It  is 
because  you  are  what  I  call  a  man." 

He  flushed  in  his  embarrassment  until  he  felt 
the  glow  in  his  face,  but  in  his  heart  the  quickened 

thumping  was  pleasant  and  exciting. 

208 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  in  a  moment,  "  I  should 
like  always  to  feel  that  I  am  fortunate  on  that  ac- 
count rather  than  on  the  other." 

She  followed  him  to  the  door  and  peered  out.  A 
great  cloud  of  drifting  and  flying  snow  swept  across 
the  porch  and  the  cold  air  rushed  in,  leaving  a  wintry 
patch  on  the  floor.  She  shivered  in  her  thin  gown. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  go  out  in  this,"  she  called  to 
him. 

"  I  am  all  right.  I  like  it,"  she  thought  she 
heard  him  say,  as  though  he  were  a  long  way  off. 
Closing  the  door,  she  pressed  her  face  against  its 
glass  panel,  shading  the  pane  with  her  hand  from 
the  reflection  of  the  light  behind  her,  and  endeavored 
to  see  out  into  the  night.  But  all  was  dark,  and 
nothing  was  visible  save  the  scurrying  flakes  that 
blew  across  the  streaks  of  light  from  the  windows. 

She  sat  down  before  the  open  fire,  and  presently 
the  maid  came  in  to  say  that  it  was  snowing  and 
blowing  so  hard  that  it  was  nearly  impossible  to  go 
about  outside.  It  had  taken  the  coachman  a  long 
time  to  go  to  the  stable  and  back.  Mrs.  Rupert  rose. 

"  In  that  case,"  she  said,  anxiously,  "  Mr.  Morgan 
cannot  possibly  make  his  way  home.  Tell  Thomas 

to  get  his  lantern  quickly  and  go  bring  him  back." 

209 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

The  maid  disappeared.  Mrs.  Rupert  stood  still, 
listening.  The  wind  rattled  the  shutters,  and  the 
driving  snow  struck  against  them  as  if  it  were 
shovelfuls  of  sand.  There  was  no  sound  of  opening 
and  closing  door  at  the  rear  of  the  house.  She 
went  out  through  the  pantry.  Thomas  was  slowly 
putting  on  his  boots.  She  said  nothing,  but  return- 
ing, seized  a  heavy  coat  from  the  hall  closet,  thrust 
her  feet  into  a  pair  of  high  arctics,  and  pulled  a  tam- 
o'-shanter  down  over  her  head.  Then,  taking  an 
electric  torch  in  her  hand,  she  stepped  out  into  the 
storm. 

Morgan  himself,  blinded  by  the  snow,  and  endeav- 
oring to  work  himself  away  from  the  house  toward 
the  road,  was  floundering  in  a  drift  that  seemed  to 
have  formed  along  a  hedge.  The  snow  was  above 
his  knees,  and  as  he  waded  through  it,  the  hedge, 
with  diabolical  intent,  seemed  to  follow  after  him  and 
lie  down  at  his  feet  for  him  to  fall  over.  He  had  just 
shaken  himself  loose  from  its  toils  and  was  taking  his 
bearings,  for  the  fiftieth  time,  by  the  lights  of  the 
house,  when  he  saw  Mrs.  Rupert  emerge  from  the 
lighted  doorway.  At  first  he  could  not  imagine 
what  the  matter  could  be,  until  suddenly  it  dawned 

upon  him,  as  he  saw  her  torch,  that  she  had  come  after 

210 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

him.  He  turned  immediately  and  made  toward 
her  through  the  drifts.  The  hedge  caught  up 
to  him  and  threw  him  down.  He  scrambled  to  his 
feet,  and,  continuing  toward  her,  soon  came  to  snow 
less  deep,  and  seemed  apparently  to  have  outdis- 
tanced his  opponent.  As  soon  as  he  could  make 
himself  heard  against  the  wind,  he  called  to  her. 
She  stopped.  He  was  beside  her  in  a  moment. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  out  of  breath,  "  I  never  knew 
such  hard  walking." 

He  stood  between  her  and  the  wind. 

"  Why  did  you  come  out  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  After  you." 

He  was  about  to  remonstrate  with  her,  but  decided 
to  save  his  scolding. 

"  Let's  go  back,"  he  said. 

They  turned  toward  the  house. 

"  It's  a  very  long  way,"  she  said.  "  It  seems  so 
much  further  than  it  was  coming." 

He  hesitated. 

"  I  don't  think  it  will  seem  so,"  he  observed,  with 
sudden  decision. 

He  lifted  her  into  his  arms  and  struggled  through 
the  drifts  with  her  toward  the  house.  She  took  this 
calmly,  putting  one  arm  firmly  about  his  shoulder. 

211 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

She  could  hear  his  heavy  breathing,  and  feel  the 
tense,  wiry  muscles  of  his  arms  that  held  her  as 
steadily  and  yet  as  gently  as  if  she  had  been  a  baby. 
He  set  her  down  safely  on  the  porch. 

"  That  was  very  handsome  of  you,"  she  said, 
gravely.  But  two  bright  spots  glowed  on  her 
cheeks. 

They  went  into  the  house.  She  put  her  hand  upon 
the  shoulder  of  his  coat. 

"Your  clothes  are  very  wet."  I  must  send  you 
to  bed  immediately." 

She  lighted  a  candle  set  in  a  brass  candlestick, 
and  handed  it  to  him. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said. 

"  Good-night.  You  were  very  good  to  come  after 
me." 

She  made  a  deprecatory  gesture  with  her  hand. 

"  Please  hurry  to  bed,"  she  said,  "  or  you  will 
catch  cold." 

She  indicated  the  location  of  his  room,  and  hold- 
ing his  candle  carefully,  he  went  up  the  wide, 
straight  stair. 


212 


CHAPTER  XX 

WHEN  Morgan  awoke  in  the  morning,  it  was 
light,  and  the  sun  was  endeavoring  to  peep 
through  the  solid  gray  of  the  sky.  The  snow  had 
stopped,  but  the  wind  swept  white  clouds  across  the 
glaring  surface  of  the  fields,  like  companies  of 
soldiers  hurrying  into  position  ;  and  where  there  was 
a  fence  or  a  house,  or  a  clump  of  trees  the  clouds 
stopped  to  increase  the  mounds  already  there.  The 
whole  world  without  was  a  white,  untouched  plain, 
which  the  foot  of  no  man  had  indented,  and  on 
which  the  tracks  of  the  rabbit,  running  bewildered 
along  the  nearly  covered  hedge,  were  instantly  oblit- 
erated. The  limbs  of  the  trees,  on  each  one  of 
which  stood  up  a  miniature  wall  of  snow,  bent 
heavily  toward  the  ground.  Two  sparrows  fluttered 
distractedly  against  the  sill  of  his  window  and 
rushed  wildly  off  again,  searching  on  the  eider  robe 
that  covered  the  ground  for  some  familiar  spot,  for 
some  cache  containing  food  that  yesterday  had 
existed  beyond  doubt  and  now  was  nowhere  to  be 

found. 

213 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

As  he  went  out  into  the  hall,  he  heard  Mrs.  Rupert 
singing  in  one  of  the  rooms  below.  It  was  a  pleas- 
ant contrast  to  the  unchanging  stillness  of  his  own 
house.  The  song  stopped  when  she  heard  his  foot- 
step on  the  stair,  and  she  appeared  at  the  doorway 
between  the  library  and  the  hall. 

"  Think  of  being  so  luxurious,"  was  her  irrelevant 
greeting.  She  looked  refreshing  and  pleasantly  clean 
in  her  white  starched  shirt-waist  and  blue  cloth  skirt. 

"  Am  I  very  late  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  really  very  late." 

"  I  was  so  comfortable  I  think  I  must  have  for- 
gotten to  awake." 

"  Were  you  comfortable  ?  The  things  I  had  put 
in  your  room  were  experimental  as  to  size." 

He  laughed. 

"The  experiment  was  successful.  I  regret  that 
Mr.  Rupert's  wardrobe  is  such  a  versatile  one." 

She  poured  the  cream  in  his  cup  with  extreme  care. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  she  demanded,  without 
looking  up. 

"  I  am  already  too  much  indebted  to  your  hus- 
band." 

The  maid  entered  with  steaming  hot  rolls,  so  that 

Mrs.  Rupert  did  not  make  the  reply  that  was  on  her 

214 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

tongue.  But  the  ministrations  of  the  former  were 
presently  complete,  and  she  faded  into  her  lair  be- 
yond the  swinging  door. 

"  I  think,"  observed  Mrs.  Rupert,  as  if  no  interval  of 
time  had  elapsed,  "  that  the  shoe  is  on  the  other  foot." 

Morgan  recognized  it  as  a  warmed-over  remark 
and  fitted  it  into  its  proper  place. 

"  You  surprise  me,"  he  cried.  "  Didn't  he  feed 
me  and  clothe  me  and  give  me  a  place  in  his  bank  ?  " 

"  But  certainly  you  must  have  seen,"  she  observed, 
"  how  far  behind  the  bank  was  in  its  work  when  you 
went  there." 

"  Of  course.  Old  Peters  is  the  most  accurate  and 
reliable  machine  in  existence  ;  but  his  multiplicity  of 
systems  and  entries  and  files  is  so  slow  that  he  never 
can  keep  things  up-to-date." 

"  And  you  will  remember  that  the  time  you  were 
taken  in  was  the  time  for  computing  interest  on  de- 
posits." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  that  when  you  were  dismissed,  all  the  inter- 
est had  been  computed,  and  the  annual  report  fin- 
ished, so  that  it  was  perfectly  safe  to  dispense  with 
your  services." 

There  was  no  resentment  nor  note  of  accusation  in 
215 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

this  speech.  She  said  it  gently,  with  the  same  calm- 
ness that  she  would  have  informed  him  of  the  time 
of  day. 

"  I  know,"  she  said,  "  that  you  think  you  are  in- 
debted to  him,  and  that — am  I  right — you  have 
therefore  felt  embarrassed  at  opposing  him  ?" 

"  Exactly.  I  had  to  work  for  him  or  for  the  peo- 
ple who  held  the  bonds — and  both  sides  had  claims 
on  me." 

She  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment. 

"  I  think  I  am  safe  in  saying/'  she  went  on,  "  that 
he  would  not  have  taken  an  interest  in  you,  or,  hav- 
ing taken  an  interest  and  been  rebuffed  as  he  was 
when  you  left  this  house  that  first  morning,  he  would 
never  have  sent  for  you ;  had  he  not  had  in  mind  the 
fact  that  you  were  just  the  young  man  he  wanted." 

"  But  there  must  be  plenty  of  young  men " 

She  shook  her  head  vigorously. 

"Oh,  no  indeed.  That  is  the  great  trouble. 
Either  the  young  men  were  simply  farm-bred  and  in- 
capable, or  they  have  been  sent  away  for  their  educa- 
tion, and  refuse,  when  they  return,  to  work  for  such  a 
small  salary." 

"  Then  you  think  "  he  said,  "  that  it  was  not  hyp- 
ocrisy in  me." 

216 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  On  the  contrary,  you  have  performed  a  great 
service  to  the  community.  You  may  have  thwarted 
one  man,  but  you  have  been  a  friend  in  need  to  a 
hundred  more." 

He  drew  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  You  are  a  great  comfort  to  me,"  he  said. 

For  a  while  he  ate  his  breakfast  in  silence.  She 
was  indeed  a  comfort.  He  looked  up  at  her.  She 
was  bending  with  great  interest  over  the  cream 
pitcher,  endeavoring  to  extract  by  means  of  a  fork 
two  petals  that  had  fallen  into  it  in  the  course  of  the 
moulting  process  of  the  flowers  that  marked  the 
center  of  the  table.  She  smiled.  He  pictured  Mad- 
eleine and  himself  coming  down  to  breakfast  and 
Madeleine  taking  an  interest  in  separating  blossoms 
from  dairy  products  by  means  of  a  fork — sitting  down 
at  his  table.  The  domesticity  of  the  scene  warmed 
his  heart.  He  felt  a  thrill  of  comfort  that  was  so 
real  it  made  him  tingle  all  over.  He  wondered  that 
Mr.  Rupert  did  not  get  more  joy  out  of  his  house 
and  his  wonderful  wife. 

She  looked  up  presently. 

"  You  were  not  meant  at  all  to  be  a  millionaire, 
were  you  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  " 

217 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Your  tastes  are  so  simple.  When  the  world  ex- 
pects you  to  travel  from  spot  to  spot  in  an  automo- 
bile, you  prefer  to  walk.  Whereas  your  position  de- 
mands display,  dress  and  general  ostentation,  you 
are  quiet  and  retiring.  You  like  trees  and  sunshine 
and  the  song  birds  better  than  taxicabs  and  hotels 
and  the  great  lighted  way.  You  are  no  more  a 
millionaire  in  spirit  than  I  am,  and  I  confess  to  lik- 
ing coffee  with  my  meals  better  than  afterward,  and 
a  thousand  other  plebeian  sins." 

He  laughed. 

"  What  you  say  is  true.  My  soul  doesn't  crave 
the  sort  of  galvanic  relaxation  that  comes  from  noise 
and  lights  and  throngs  of  people,  and  all  that  sort  of 
wholesale  unrest.  I  can  enjoy  myself  without  effort 
between  the  hours  of  seven  and  ten  in  the  evening. 
There  is  no  insatiable  demand  within  me  that  my 
social  pleasures  shall  begin  after  midnight,  as  there 
is  apparently  in  people  who  enjoy  themselves  by 
means  of  cotillions.  But  as  I  cannot  change  all  that 
by  the  simple  statement  that  I  do  not  like  it,  I  sup- 
pose that  I  shall  have  to  do  just  as  the  others  do." 

"  But  why  not  be  honest  about  it  ?  If  you  don't 
like  it,  why  do  you  do  it  ?  You  will  excuse  my  being 

very  frank  with  you,  won't  you  ?     But  why  not  live 

218 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

your  life  as  you  want  to,  and  make  out  of  yourself 
what  you  want  to  make  out  of  yourself  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  keenly. 

"  What  do  you  feel,"  he  asked  slowly,  "  that  I 
want  to  make  out  of  myself  ?  " 

She  leaned  eagerly  forward. 

"  A  man,"  she  said,  "  a  fine  upstanding  man.  A 
person  of  whom  I  could  say  twenty  years  hence  that 
he  had  shouldered  his  way  through  the  world  by  his 
own  efforts,  and  that  whatever  of  position  or  of  in- 
fluence, of  respect  of  his  fellow  men  he  possessed,  it 
was  due  to  his  own  efforts  ;  in  other  words,  that 
Morgan  Holt  had  made  Morgan  Holt." 

He  was  looking  straight  at  her,  and  he  saw  that 
her  earnestness  had  brought  just  a  trace  of  moisture 
to  her  eyes. 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  seriously.  "  That  would  be 
very  wonderful.  That  is  just  what  I  mean  to  try  to 
do.  That  is  the  reason  why  I  made  this  trip  away 
— Quixotic  as  it  may  seem,  as  it  does  seem  very 
often  to  me." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  is  Quixotic.  If  it  has  put  into 
you  the  seed  of  the  desire  to  make  something  of 
yourself,  to  accomplish  something,  it  has  been  the 
most  wonderful  thing  in  the  world." 

219 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  I  believe,"  he  said,  thoughtfully,  "  it  has  done 
that." 

She  paused  a  moment. 

"And  I  believe,"  she  said  presently,  "  that  when 
you  have  gone  to  New  York,  it  will  bring  you  back 
again  to  Prince  Charles." 

"  To  live  ?  " 

"  To  live." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  There  is  no  chance  of  that,"  he  said,  decisively. 
"  There  would  be  no  use  in  it." 

"  You  may  not  do  it,  but  I  think  you  will  wish 
to.  I  think  you  will  always  wish  to  be  earning 
your  living.  You  are  healthier  and  happier  than 
when  you  came  here  first — and  you  have  pinker 
cheeks." 

"  And  doubtless  a  better  digestion,"  he  agreed. 

"  Of  course  you  have  all  those  things." 

"  But,"  he  objected,  "  I  could  not  take  any  inter- 
est in  earning  my  living  if  I  had  this  income  of  a 
million  dollars  a  year." 

"  That  income,"  she  said,  "  is  the  greatest  concern 
in  your  life.  It  is  pointing  the  way  to  a  life  of  idle- 
ness and  uselessness  and  lack  of  effort.  Whereas, 

Providence,  with    a   fine  sense  of  humor,  has  en- 

220 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

dowed  you  with  a  brain  and  a  heart  full  of  ambi- 
tion." She  smiled.  "  And  there  is  your  problem." 

He  smiled  too.     But  he  was  very  thoughtful. 

"  Following  out  your  line  of  argument,  it  would 
seem  as  if  I  had  no  chance  to  make  anything  of  my- 
self unless  some  one  comes  along  and  takes  my 
money  from  me." 

She  rose  from  the  table. 

"  If  that  ever  should  happen,"  she  said,  "  I  know 
that  you  would  be  quite  capable  of  taking  care  of 
yourself  without  it.  I  know  that  from  what  I  learn 
of  the  way  you  have  handled  this  cypress  operation." 

They  talked  no  more  about  the  question  then,  but 
when  she  drove  him  home  in  her  sleigh  late  that 
afternoon  and  set  him  down  before  his  snow-encom- 
passed house,  he  said  : 

"  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  what  you  have 
said.  And  who  knows ;  some  day  I  may  decide  to 
jump  over  the  paddock  fence." 


221 


CHAPTER  XXI 

"X  TEGOTIATIONS  between  Mr.  Rupert  (acting 
-I-  ^1  for  the  Prince  Charles  Cypress  Company)  and 
the  lumber  company  in  Norfolk  hung  fire.  The 
Norfolk  company  believed  that  they  had  Rupert 
cornered  ;  and  if  they  had  known  as  much  as  Rupert 
knew,  they  would  have  been  certain  of  it.  But  the 
bank  cashier  knew  he  did  not  have  to  give  in  until 
the  first  of  May,  when  the  bonds  had  to  be  repaid. 
So  he  asked  impossible  terms,  and  delayed,  and  af- 
fected a  lack  of  interest  in  the  hope  that  something 
would  turn  up  before  that  date.  The  firm  in  Nor- 
folk owned  twenty-three  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
the  bonds  ;  and  Mr.  Rupert,  although  theoretically 
having  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  to  redeem  them, 
actually  had  much  less  than  that  sum,  owing  to  the 
fact  that,  secure  in  his  ability  to  retain  the  money  for 
some  time  more  by  manipulating  his  bond  issues,  he 
had  invested  part  of  it  in  a  certain  project  which  he 
expected  to  make  big  returns — but  not  for  some 

time.     He  was  so  very  calm  and  unruffled  about  the 

222 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

matter,  in  his  bland,  exasperating  way,  that  even 
Perkins  was  at  times  deceived  into  believing  that 
perhaps  the  man  had  a  card  up  his  sleeve.  But 
they  were  firm,  and  Rupert  knew  they  would  be 
firm,  in  insisting  on  the  redemption  at  the  proper 
time  of  all  the  bonds  they  themselves  held  and  of  as 
many  as  possible  of  those  held  by  others,  unless  the 
Prince  Charles  Cypress  Company  turned  the  title 
absolutely  over  to  them. 

If  the  Prince  Charles  Company  redeemed  the 
bonds  held  by  the  Norfolk  company,  it  would  cost 
the  former  twenty-three  thousand  dollars,  and  they 
would  have  nothing  in  return  for  it  but  the  title  to 
the  swamp,  which  they  did  not  want,  and  an  in- 
debtedness of  seventeen  thousand  dollars  in  bonds 
still  to  satisfy.  Of  this  remaining  seventeen  thou- 
sand dollars,  about  seven  thousand  had  been  con- 
verted into  second-mortgage  bonds,  which  they  did 
not  intend  to  pay.  This  of  course  was  a  help. 

Mr.  Rupert  saw,  however,  he  was  due  to  be 
squeezed.  He  had  floated  his  forty  thousand  dollar 
bond  issue  by  virtue  of  the  credulity  of  the  people. 
If  they  paid  the  Norfolk  company  twenty-three 
thousand  dollars,  and  scattering  others  perhaps  five 

thousand,  to  redeem  bonds,  they  would  be  paying 

223 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

twenty-eight  thousand  dollars  to  hold  title  to  land 
they  had  only  paid  fifteen  thousand  dollars  for  in 
the  first  place.  This  was  impossible.  Little  Mr. 
Perkins  was  obviously  in  a  position  to  dictate  his 
own  terms.  It  was  perfectly  plain  that  Mr.  Rupert 
would  have  to  buy  his  way  out. 

Naturally,  Mr.  Rupert  delayed.  And  Morgan,  on 
his  little  farm,  was  hard  pressed  on  that  account. 
His  expenses  living  there  were  very  little  indeed. 
And  having  no  money,  he  found  economy,  at  last,  a 
necessity.  He  endeavored  to  obtain  something  else 
to  do  in  the  village,  but  discovered  that  there  was 
nothing  at  that  time  of  the  year.  He  discovered 
also  that  his  prestige  was  just  a  trifle  battered  by 
his  discharge  from  the  bank  ;  for  so  great  was  the 
reputation  Mr.  Rupert  enjoyed,  by  reason  of  his 
arrogant  self-possession,  that,  in  spite  of  the  cloud 
that  had  recently  been  cast  over  the  cypress  deal, 
they  still  felt  assured  that  he  must  be  in  the  right 
rather  than  this  newcomer.  Such  is  the  persistence 
of  a  strong  reputation  once  thoroughly  established. 

The  problem  of  sustenance  was  indeed  a  crying 
one  to  the  young  man.  He  found  that  old  Alex- 
ander had  left  a  good  many  potatoes  in  the  cellar — 

perhaps  five  or  six  bushels.     And  there  was  a  vener- 

224 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

able  shotgun,  which  proved,  on  investigation,  to 
fire  out  of  the  proper  end  of  the  barrel.  With  this 
he  used  to  kill  an  animal  in  the  woods  now  and 
then,  a  rabbit  or  a  squirrel,  or  sometimes  a  fine,  fat 
'possum,  the  taste  of  which  he  despised,  but  which 
he  was  frequently  hungry  enough  to  eat  in  spite  of 
himself.  He  cut  all  his  own  fire-wood.  When  he 
saw  that  he  was  gradually  using  up  all  the  wood 
lying  about,  he  began  the  operation  of  felling  a 
huge  oak  tree  in  the  woods.  This  he  at  length  ac- 
complished. He  trimmed  it  carefully,  and  then, 
deciding  that  the  services  of  a  man  for  one  day 
would  be  a  good  investment,  he  hired  a  negro  for  a 
dollar  to  help  him  saw  it  into  four-foot  sections. 
These  he  split  with  a  wedge.  But  when  he  had 
split  himself  a  fine  cord  of  wood,  a  man  came  along 
and  offered  him  two  dollars  and  a  half  for  it,  where 
it  was ;  and  he  had  to  begin  all  over  again.  This 
happened  a  second  time  and  a  third  time.  It  kept 
him  busy  and  at  the  end  of  each  day  he  was  worn 
out  He  slept  like  a  harvest  hand. 

And  then  he  discovered  that  good  oak  cord-wood 
such  as  he  was  splitting  was  worth  three  dollars  and 
a  half  a  cord  delivered,  and  that  it  was  very  hard  to 

get,  at  that,  so  that  the  man  who  purchased  it  from 

225 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

him  made  a  dollar  on  the  transaction.  This  middle 
man  coming  in  on  the  deal  did  not  please  him  at 
all.  It  was  against  all  business  principle.  So,  argu- 
ing that  if  he  were  earning  his  living  there  was  no 
need  in  the  world  to  be  ashamed  of  it,  he  went  to 
several  of  the  people  in  Prince  Charles  and  solicited 
orders  for  cord-wood  from  them.  And  when  he  had 
orders  for  four  cords,  he  hired  a  horse  and  wagon 
for  a  day  for  a  dollar  and  a  half  and  delivered  the 
wood  himself.  On  one  of  these  trips  as  he  was 
sitting  on  his  load  of  wood  urging  his  plodding 
animal  along,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  humiliating 
Mr.  Rupert,  when  he  passed  in  his  automobile,  by 
actually  speaking  to  him  in  the  most  friendly  man- 
ner in  the  world.  The  bank  cashier  swept  proudly 
by,  moving  not  a  muscle. 

These  four  cords  of  wood,  however,  were  the 
result  of  his  two  weeks'  work,  and  when  he  had 
been  paid,  the  tax  collector  came  along  and  took  all 
of  it.  He  had  arranged  to  pay  his  interest  on  the 
mortgage  monthly,  as  he  knew  he  should  never  be 
able  to  keep  a  large  enough  hoard  of  money  intact 
to  pay  an  annual  interest  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
dollars.  When  the  first  of  April  came  along,  he 

walked    down    to   the  village  and   paid   over  ten 

226 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

dollars  to  the  man  who  held  the  mortgage.  Three 
dollars  of  it  was  in  silver  and  he  had  left  thirty-three 
cents,  with  no  chance  of  selling  another  cord  of 
wood  for  nearly  a  week. 

That  was  the  hardest  week  he  spent.  The  pota- 
toes were  running  very  low.  He  had  poor  luck  with 
his  gun.  It  rained  continually  so  that  he  could  not 
split  wood.  To  make  matters  worse,  he  had  a 
young  collie  puppy  which  some  one  had  given  him. 
It  insisted  on  being  fed  and  was  dainty  to  the  extent 
of  refusing  condensed  milk — at  first.  But  at  the  end 
of  the  week,  Morgan  found  it  chewing  contentedly 
on  a  tiny  piece  of  bacon  that  had  been  on  the 
pantry  floor  ever  since  he  could  remember.  How- 
ever, the  days  until  it  learned  to  conquer  its  fastidi- 
ousness were  very  wearing.  It  would  select  a  note 
away  up  in  the  treble,  so  shrill  that  you  heard  it 
with  the  nerves  of  your  spine,  and  hold  it  indefinitely, 
until  its  master  had  to  go  out  to  preserve  his  reason. 
Finally,  becoming  exhausted,  it  would  lie  down  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor  of  some  dark  room  and  sleep 
until  Morgan  fell  over  it.  The  daily  strategy  was  to 
save  some  dainty  morsel  until  bedtime,  which 
would  keep  it  quiet  until  he  was  able  to  get  to  sleep. 

But  at  length  the  puppy  became  interested  in  the 

227 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

pastime  of  stalking  rats,  and  after  that  it  ate  any- 
thing it  found  in  a  corner. 

It  was  a  Robinson  Crusoe  sort  of  an  existence. 
In  fact,  he  read  a  copy  of  that  book  which  Alexander 
had  left  and  got  much  comfort  and  encouragement 
from  it.  He  even  saw  how  if  the  scarcity  of  money 
held  out  for  months,  he  might  patch  together 
squirrel  skins  and  make  a  fur  suit  like  Robinson 
Crusoe's.  But  even  that  hope,  he  reflected,  was 
blasted,  because  it  was  against  the  law  to  shoot 
squirrels  after  the  first  of  April. 

On  account  of  the  wet  weather,  he  did  not  finish 
splitting  the  cord  of  wood  until  the  end  of  the  week, 
and  by  that  time  his  supply  of  salt,  sugar  and  coffee, 
which  he  had  divided  into  equal  portions  to  last  just 
so  many  days,  ran  out.  So  he  lived  a  day  and  a 
half  on  soda  crackers  and  peanut  butter,  until  he 
hated  the  very  sight  of  peanut  butter.  At  noon 
Saturday,  just  as  he  laid  the  last  stick  on  the  cord, 
the  sun  came  out  through  the  clouds  and  simultane- 
ously an  angel,  disguised  in  a  two-days'  growth  of 
beard  and  rawhide  boots,  offered  him  two  dollars 
and  a  half,  as  this  angel  always  did,  for  his  wood. 
And  seventeen  minutes  later,  when  Morgan  came 

into  Prince  Charles  to  purchase  provisions,  he  dis- 

228 


covered  at  the  post-office  a  letter  from  Madeleine, 
which  had  been  there  a  week. 
The  letter  said  : 

"  DEAR  OLD  BOY  : 

"Such  a  time  last  night.  Perfectly  ripping 
gorgeous  cotillion  at  Mrs.  F.  Somebody  Coving- 
ton's.  Pure  new  people — just  indecently  rich.  They 
buttered  on  the  lavishness  until  you  knew  at  any 
minute  the  servants  would  come  in  with  baskets  of 
gold  pieces  and  fling  them  around  for  people  to 
scramble  for.  My  graft  in  the  way  of  favors  amounted 
to  about  a  hundred  and  twenty  dollars.  I  know,  be- 
cause I  took  the  swag — bracelets  and  things — to  the 
jewelers  and  exchanged  it  for  something  decent. 

"  I  turned  in  as  my  dear  boy  was  getting  up  to 
greet  the  lark,  I  suppose.  I  have  an  insane  desire  to 
see  you.  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  you  last  night. 
And  to-day  when  I  awoke,  I  tore  off  a  screed  to  my 
distant  cousin  (and  your  dear  neighbor)  Mrs.  Brown, 
to  say  I  simply  couldn't  stay  away  a  second  longer. 

"  So  I   am  coming  this  very  next  Saturday  and  in 
the  evening  I  shall  expect  you  to  hasten  to  see 
"  Your  affectionate  Chattel, 

"  MADELEINE." 

This  was  the  Saturday,  and  the  evening  was  not 
far  off.  So  he  bought  himself  a  beefsteak  and  a  pie 
and  some  very  nutritious  canned  things  to  give  him- 
self a  debonair  well-fed  appearance,  and  hastened 

home  with  great  joy. 

229 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  MAID  took  his  hat  and  coat  and  gloves.  A 
great  fire  of  logs  burned  in  the  fireplace.  Dim 
candle-shaped  electric  globes  in  sconces  spotted  the 
high  wooden  wainscot  and  helped  the  fire  cast  fine 
shadows  on  the  beams  overhead.  A  red-shaded 
reading  lamp  stood  on  the  long  table.  He  sat 
down  comfortably  on  a  seat  by  the  fireplace.  And 
presently  his  affectionate  chattel  appeared. 

Mrs.  Brown  was  with  her — joyful,  good-natured, 
bubbling  over  with  things  to  say.  Madeleine  was 
dressed  in  some  pale,  pink  thing  which  set  off 
beautifully  her  splendid  neck  and  arms.  The  first 
half  hour  was  strange  and  unbelievable  to  him,  as  if 
the  glorious  creature  there  smiling  at  him  were  not  a 
real  Madeleine ;  as  if  the  substantial,  two-hundred 
pound  Mrs.  Brown  were  the  mere  figment  of  his  imagi- 
nation, the  great  wainscoted  hall  and  everything  in  it, 
including  the  snub-nosed  Pomeranian  that  investi- 
gated the  hem  of  his  garment,  probably  smelling 

traces  of  collie  pup,  all  a  mere  dream.     But  when 

230 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Mrs.  Brown,  still  bursting  with  conversation  unsaid, 
long-sufferingly  denied  herself  further  joy  and  de- 
parted, he  found  that  Madeleine  was  still  Madeleine. 

"  You  haven't  kissed  me  yet,"  she  observed. 

"  I  hated  to  discriminate  when  you  both  came 
down." 

She  laughed. 

"  Imagine  what  Cousin  Emily  would  have  thought 
had  you  kissed  her" 

"  Or,"  he  replied,  falling  into  the  spirit  of  her  re- 
mark, "  imagine  what  I  should  have  thought." 

"  Still,"  she  said,  "  you  haven't  kissed  me.  You 
insist  upon  having  glory  thrust  upon  you." 

"  But,"  he  objected,  "  my  year  is  not  up  until 
September." 

"  And  who,"  she  cried,  "  is  the  judge  of  your 
year?" 

"  It  is  hard  to  tell." 

"  I  am." 

"  Then  I  take  it,"  he  said,  calmly,  "  you  have  de- 
cided I  may  have  you." 

"  Have  me  ?  Why,  boy,  you  have  me  now.  I  am 
all  bundled  up  and  addressed." 

He  stepped  over  and  lifted  her  out  of  her  chair. 

"  Am  I  beautiful  ?  "   she  cried,  well  aware  of  her 
231 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

wonderful  charm.  She  never  lost  consciousness  of 
herself. 

He  nodded. 

"  Then  you  may  have  me  under  one  condition, 
that  you  go  back  with  me  now,  to-morrow." 

He  shook  his  head  with  decision. 

"  It  is  about  four  months  and  twenty  days  before 
the  appointed  time,"  he  replied. 

There  was  an  unmistakable  firmness  about  him. 
Before  her  will  had  dominated  him,  as  it  dominated 
others.  Now  she  felt  a  new  force  before  which  she 
was  ineffectual. 

"  I  don't  care  a  continental,"  she  cried.  "  Why 
should  I  wait?" 

"  But  I  am  in  the  midst,"  he  said,  "  of  making  my 
living.  There  are  things  I  want  to  finish.  I  want 
to  carry  through  what  I  have  started.  I  want  to  end 
the  year  with  the  balance  of  five  or  ten  thousand 
dollars  that  is  coming  to  me  for  my  work  on  the 
timber-land.  If  my  syphon  works  that  will  be  about 
my  share  of  the  profits." 

"  Five  or  ten  thousand  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What 
is  that  beside  your  thirty  millions  ?  " 

"  I  shall  have  earned  the  five  or  ten  thousand." 

"  Oh,  that's  piffling,  Morgan,  dear.     All  we  care 
232 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

about   is  your  ability  to  do  it.     /  need  you  now. 
Your  first  duty  is  to  me." 

"  But  couldn't  you  wait  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  What  I  wanted  to  see  was  whether 
you  were  the  man  that  could  keep  your  father's 
money.  And  now,"  she  said,  "  we  are  going  to  lead 
society  about  by  the  nose.  And  the  sooner,  the 
quicker." 

"  You  be  the  leader  of  metropolitan  society  ?  "  he 
cried. 

"  Why  not?  We  have  the  edge  on  every  one  now. 
You  have  the  money  and  I  have  the  energy ;  and 
we  both  have  brains  enough  to  outguess  any  one 
else  who  wants  to  dominate  things." 

"  But  what's  the  point  ?  " 

She  drew  her  arm  through  his  and  sat  down  with 
him  on  the  ingle  seat. 

"  Morgan  dear,  you're  stagnating.  You  are  see- 
ing the  world  cross-eyed." 

"  But  I  don't  see  that  advantage  of  this " 

"  My  dear  boy,  it  was  the  dream  of  your  father's 
life,  and  if  your  mother  hadn't  died  when  you  were  a 
baby,  they  would  have  accomplished  it  together." 

The  Pomeranian  leaped  on  his  lap  and  curled  up 
with  an  air  of  satisfied  comfort. 

233 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  That  is  a  great  argument  for  it,  surely,"  he  ad- 
mitted. 

"  Then  we  will  do  it."  It  was  not  a  question,  it 
was  a  statement. 

"  Under  one  condition,"  he  replied.  "  I  must  go  to 
bed  every  night  at  half-past  eleven." 

She  put  up  her  face  and  kissed  him. 

"You  dear  old  sweet  country  boy!"  she  cried. 
"That  is  just  the  time  you  will  begin  to  wake  up." 

"  Perhaps  you  can  arrange  to  have  a  wheeling 
chair  for  me,  so  that  I  can  be  pushed  off  in  a  corner 
and  allowed  to  go  to  sleep." 

"  Not  at  all  necessary.  I  shall  have  to  spend  all 
my  time  trailing  after  you  to  the  corner  instead  to 
see  what  other  girl  you  are  carrying  on  an  outra- 
geous flirtation  with." 

"  It  sounds  fine  1 "  he  said,  laughing. 

"  It  is  fine.  They  write  books  about  the  shallow- 
ness  of  society,  but  that  is  only  theory.  Society  is  a 
necessity  for  people  who  have  been  brought  up  that 
way.  You  might  just  as  well  talk  about  the  shallow- 
ness  of  breathing  oxygen." 

He  pulled  the  little  Pomeranian's  ears,  and  the 
animal  opened  one  eye  with  a  companionable  air. 

"  Morgan,"  went  on  the  girl,  "  you  can't  afford  to 
234 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

take  a  middle  class  view  of  people  of  your  own  kind. 
You  were  born  a  gentleman —  and  you  always  will 
be  a  gentleman.  You  can't  live  in  New  York  and 
spend  your  time  going  to  moving  picture  shows  like 
clerks  and  shop  people.  You  will  do  just  what  other 
well-born  people  do." 

"  I  still  eat  with  a  fork,"  he  said,  irrelevantly. 

"  That's  it,"  she  cried,  "  and  you  couldn't  get 
along  without  your  evening  clothes.  All  the  things 
of  our  life  are  necessary  to  you." 

"  Some  of  them,  at  any  rate." 

"  I  want  you  to  get  this,  then,"  she  continued ;  "  if 
you  are  going  to  mix  with  people  of  your  own  class, 
you  might  as  well  be  some  punkins  and  tell  them 
how  to  run  things.  I  want  to  be  boss" 

"  Well,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  I  am  sure  I  shall 
interpose  no  objections  to  any  of  your  ambitions." 

"  You  are  a  real  pippin,"  she  cried,  rising  and 
walking  lazily  over  to  the  fire,  where  she  held  her 
slim  fingers  to  the  blaze.  She  studied  the  logs  for 
a  moment  thoughtfully. 

"  And  to-morrow,"  she  decided,  at  length,  to  say, 
with  the  air  of  one  stating  a  fact  that  had  already 
been  tacitly  agreed  upon,  "  we  will  leave  on  the 
afternoon  train." 

235 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

She  waited  breathlessly.     He  closed  his  lips. 

"  No,"  he  said.     "  Not  to-morrow." 

He  was  willing  to  humor  her  in  her  ambition  at  the 
proper  time, — when  the  year  was  up.  But  he  had  no 
intention  of  leaving  Prince  Charles  before  that  time. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  carelessly,  "  I  can  wait  over  a 
day." 

"  Nor  the  day  after." 

She  faced  him  suddenly.     He  put  down  the  dog. 

"  I  am  of  the  opinion,"  he  explained,  "  that  I  had 
better  finish  out  my  year." 

She  perceived  that  there  was  going  to  be  a  con- 
flict between  them.  It  was  not  that  it  made  any 
great  difference  whether  he  went  home  now  or  four 
months  later.  It  was  the  fact  that  she  noticed  in 
him  a  development  contrary  to  her  ideas — a  desire 
for  simplicity  rather  than  for  show  and  for  social 
attainment.  His  stay  in  this  place  had  broadened 
him — she  could  see  that  the  gap  between  boyhood 
and  manhood  had  been  almost  completely  bridged. 
She  had  an  intuitive  conviction  that  he  might,  if  left 
beyond  her  sphere  of  influence  much  longer,  drift 
completely  away  from  her.  And  her  scheme  for 
their  future  life  depended  on  her  ability  to  keep  both 

hands  on  the  tiller. 

236 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

That  he  should  insist,  therefore,  on  staying  here 
longer  irritated  her  and  filled  her  with  uneasiness. 
And  the  very  fact  that  she  did  not  seem  to  be  able 
to  prevail  as  formerly  made  her  lose  her  grip  a 
little. 

"  Morgan,"  she  cried,  "  have  you — are  you  getting 
interested  in  this  girl  you  wrote  about  ?  " 

"  Not  I." 

"  Then  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  You  started 
in  this  year  because  I  asked  you.  Why  can't  you 
end  it  when  I  ask  you  ?  " 

He  smiled. 

"  You  mustn't  pull  the  reins  too  often.  Give  me 
my  head." 

Tears  of  vexation  stood  in  her  eyes.  She  saw 
that  she  was  ineffectual.  He  was  immovable. 

"  Morgan,  I  wouldn't  be  stubborn." 

"  I  must  be  allowed,"  he  asserted  firmly,  "  to 
decide  certain  things  for  myself." 

"  And  I,"  she  said  sharply,  "  will  decide  certain 
things  for  myself — if  necessary." 

She  walked  away  from  him. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  he  replied,  evenly, 
"  but  that  is  certainly  your  privilege." 

"  You  do  know  what  I  mean.  It  seems  to  me 
237 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

that  when  a  girl  says  she  will  marry  a  man,  that  is 
important  enough  for  him  to  set  aside  his  whims 
and  caprices." 

He  closed  his  lips  firmly. 

"  I  have  started  out  to  accomplish  something 
here,"  he  said,  patiently.  "  I  have  gone  through  a 
great  many  hardships  for  it,  and  I  don't  want  to 
give  it  up." 

She  came  back  to  the  fire. 

"  Morgan  Holt,  I  will  ask  you  a  plain  question. 
Do  you  want  to  marry  me  or  not  ?  " 

He  returned  her  look  steadily. 

"  My  dear  Madeleine,  that  is  not  a  question.  It 
is  a  threat." 

"  I  repeat  it,"  she  persisted. 

He  smiled. 

"  The  answer  is  yes,"  he  said. 

She  closed  both  her  hands  tight.  She  scarcely 
thought  before  she  said  it. 

"  If  you  want  me  now,  I  am  all  yours.  If  not,  7 
cannot  wait}1 

He  glanced  at  her  momentarily,  and  waited  for 
her  to  say  more  if  she  wished.  But  she  stood  silent, 
breathing  a  little  faster.  The  almost  disdainful 

ultimatum  in  her  speech  left  him  but  one  thing  to  do. 

238 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  did  not  intend  to  discuss  a  thing  flung  at  him  in 
that  way.  Presently  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good-night,  Madeleine,"  he  said,  very  quietly. 

A  chill  went  over  her.  She  would  have  given 
everything  if  she  had  not  pressed  it  quite  so  far. 
But  there  was  no  suitable  retreat.  She  took  his 
hand  and  bidding  him  good-night,  swept  by  him 
and  up  the  stairs,  tears  welling  up  in  her  eyes. 

He  stood  still  for  a  while  in  exactly  the  spot  she 
had  left  him.  The  little  dog  sat  on  the  rug  before 
him  looking  inquiringly  up  at  him.  Then  he  slowly 
moved  over  to  where  his  coat  lay  on  the  chair  and 
putting  it  on,  let  himself  out  of  the  house. 

The  little  Pomeranian  dog,  puzzled,  watched  the 
door  through  which  he  had  gone,  with  his  head 
cocked  wonderingly  on  one  side. 


239 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IT  is  a  trite  phrase  to  say  that  we  never  know  how 
much  we  want  the  girl  until  it  is  apparent  that 
we  cannot  have  her.  Morgan  was  thoroughly  up- 
set. When  he  got  home,  he  lighted  the  fire  in  the 
living-room  fireplace  and  sat  down  before  it  to  think 
the  question  out.  There  was  nothing,  however,  to 
think  out.  There  was  the  fact.  She  would  not 
wait.  He  had  the  alternative,  of  either  not  being 
present  when  they  began  the  work  in  the  cypress 
swamp,  made  possible  by  his  ideas  (which  would 
mean  he  would  have  to  leave,  immediately,  his  house 
and  his  dog  and  all  the  things  that  had  been  his  life 
in  the  past  seven  months),  or  of  not  having  Made- 
leine for  his  wife.  If  that  choice  had  been  put  up  to 
him  without  any  attendant  circumstances,  he  would 
not  have  hesitated  in  arriving  at  his  decision.  But 
it  was  not  a  question  of  whether  he  wanted  to  stay 
most  or  wanted  Madeleine  most.  It  was  a  question 
of  whether,  having  started  on  a  scheme  for  his 
development,  he  should  stop  it  before  it  was  finished. 

It  was  a  question  of  whether  she  was  justified  in  de- 

240 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

manding  that  he  either  go  back  with  her  to  marry 
her  now,  or  else  not  at  all.  She  asked  too  much. 
Had  he  not  felt  that  she  knew  she  asked  too  much, 
he  might  perhaps  have  gone  back  to  her  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  with  his  bag  packed.  But  it  was  the 
fact  that  she  could  not  but  agree  with  him  that  he 
ought  to  stay,  and  wished  to  force  him  to  go  in  spite 
of  it,  that  made  him  firm.  And  when  he  kicked 
out  the  embers  at  half-past  three  on  that  Sunday 
morning,  he  felt  that  he  could  not  change  his  deci- 
sion, even  if  it  cost  him  a  wife.  And  in  this,  he  was 
strengthened  by  what  Mrs.  Rupert  had  told  him 
some  time  before ;  that  he  had  only  to  imagine  how 
he  should  feel  if  his  own  wife  were  out  of  sympathy 
with  him  and  inconsiderate  of  his  wishes,  to  know 
how  difficult  her  life  was.  Was  not  Madeleine  in- 
considerate and  out  of  sympathy  with  him  now  ? 
Now  was  the  time  for  her  to  show  consideration  and 
sympathy.  If  she  could  not  do  so  before  their  mar- 
riage, would  she  afterward  ?  All  this  was  very  clear 
in  his  mind. 

Madeleine,  therefore,  went  back  to  New  York, 
alone,  the  following  day,  and  she  wrote  him  no 
more  letters.  He  felt  now  as  if  he  were  cut  off 

entirely  from  his  own  world.     He  began  to  think  of 

241 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

his  friends  and  his  old  haunts  with  more  regret 
than  at  any  time  during  his  absence  from  them. 
For,  previously,  he  had  always  been  buoyed  up  by 
the  fact  that  Madeleine  was  his.  She  had  never 
said  so,  but  she  had  given  him  every  reason  for  the 
greatest  confidence.  But  now  he  had  no  sheet 
anchor  anywhere. 

He  did  not  feel  the  same  cheerfulness  about  his 
work  now.  He  did  not  turn  out  early  in  the  morn- 
ing to  take  up  his  hard  labor  on  the  oak  trees  with 
the  same  vigor  and  enthusiasm.  He  resented,  for 
the  first  time,  the  frugality  of  his  meals.  For  the 
first  time,  he  found  the  house  lonely,  and  heard  his 
footsteps  echo  as  he  walked  through  it.  In  despera- 
tion, he  would  make  long  calls  in  the  evening  on 
John  Anderson,  and  sometimes  even  on  Mr.  Peters, 
after  which,  walking  home  through  the  dark  woods 
to  his  darker  house,  he  came  to  hate  the  life  he  made 
himself  live.  He  hated  the  damp,  chill  house.  He 
hated  the  great  trees  he  had  thought  were  so  wonder- 
ful. He  even  hated  the  collie  puppy.  There  was 
no  object  in  his  year  of  exile  now. 

One  evening  he  gathered  together  all  the  letters 
Madeleine  had  written  him  and,  arranging  them  in 

order,  read  them  all,  beginning  with  the  first  and 

242 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

ending  with  the  last  one  she  had  sent  saying  she 
was  coming  to  Mrs.  Brown's.  It  was  a  morbid, 
self-punishing  undertaking,  and  only  served  to  re- 
mind him  with  cutting  force  that  the  sun  was  no 
longer  shining.  And  when  he  had  read  the  last  one 
and  realized  that  it  was  the  last  one  indeed,  he  reso- 
lutely gathered  up  every  letter,  envelope  and  en- 
closure, and  threw  them  in  the  blazing  fire. 

There  was  nothing  then  left  to  remind  him  of 
Madeleine  Graham. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Morgan  ?  "  cried  Perkins,  one 
day.  "  You  look  as  though  you'd  swallowed  a  cat- 
fish." 

Morgan  laughed — without  any  great  enthusiasm. 

"If  you  fellows  would  get  busy  and  start  things 
moving  up  here,  I  would  have  something  to  occupy 
my  mind.  If  you  don't,  I'll  go  crazy." 

"  What  the  dickens  !  "  exclaimed  the  other.  "  Say, 
I  often  wondered  what  you  were  doing  in  this  burg 
anyway.  Seems  like  the  wrong  location  for  you." 

"  It's  wrong  enough — just  now." 

"  I  fall  to  the  idea  right  off,"  said  Perkins.  "  Used 
to  have  a  girl  just  like  that  myself.  Made  me  so 
acid  you  could  test  me  with  litmus  paper.  Finally, 
I  said  one  day,  '  Perky,'  I  said,  '  you're  too  gloomy. 

243 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

It  aggravates  her  symptoms.'  So  I  turned  real 
cheerful — almost  funny,  you  know.  I  came  down  to 
the  sunny  South  and  tried  the  absent  treatment  on 
her — just  to  see  if  she  was  perfectly  sincere,  you 
understand.  And  when  I  went  back,  appearing  so 
excessively  happy  it  looked  as  if  I  couldn't  hold  it 
all,  she  weakened.  Gave  right  in  and  married  yours 
truly  about  a  week  later.  So  I've  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  in  going  after  a  girl  you've  got  to  play 
a  system." 

Morgan  laughed. 

"You've  just  got  to  buck  up,"  Perkins  went  on. 
"  Here's  spring  coming,  leaves  on  the  trees,  robins 
chirping,  and  you  looking  like  a  Masonic  funeral. 
That  will  never  do.  What  you  need  is  a  little  trip 
with  me  on  the  company  down  to  the  Dismal  Swamp, 
where  they're  trying  an  experiment  with  a  full-sized 
model  of  this  syphon  of  yours." 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Morgan,  eagerly. 

"  Dismal  Swamp.  But  don't  you  worry.  It's  no 
worse  than  you  are.  And  they  tell  me  this  syphon 
is  working  like  a  charm — that  is,"  he  added  to  take 
the  edge  off  the  compliment,  "  since  we  have  made 
some  eight  or  nine  modifications  of  the  original 

scheme." 

244 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

His  companion  rose  excitedly. 

"  When  are  we  going?"  he  demanded. 

"  To-morrow  morning.  On  that  side-wheeler 
dreadnaught  that  leaves  at  seven  o'clock.  Can  you 
get  up  that  soon  ?  " 

"  Get  up  !     I'll  stay  up  all  night." 

They  found  the  syphon  was  indeed  working  satis- 
factorily. They  had  had  to  add  two  or  three  more 
valves  and  an  automatic  controller  for  the  pump, 
which  started  it  as  soon  as  enough  air  had  leaked  in 
to  destroy  the  efficiency  of  the  syphon.  And,  in 
order  to  get  a  greater  flow  of  water,  they  had  made 
it  a  triple  syphon,  all  three  of  the  pipes  being 
attached  to  the  same  pump,  which  exhausted  them 
of  air  at  the  same  time.  At  this  rate,  when  they 
had  been  pumping  an  hour  on  the  particular  pond 
they  were  experimenting  with,  they  could  see  a  per- 
ceptible lowering  of  the  level  of  the  water.  The 
idea  was  when  they  had  drained  all  the  water  out, 
to  close  off  two  of  the  pipes  and  the  third  would 
take  care  of  new  water  that  ran  in. 

The  firm  in  Norfolk  were  as  pleased  with  the 
success  of  this  device  as  he  was  himself.  They  had 
a  long  talk  with  him,  following  the  visit  to  observe 

how  it  worked,  and  explained  what  they  were  will- 

245 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

ing  to  do  for  him.  They  announced  that  they  were 
willing  to  pay  him  five  thousand  dollars  on  the  first 
day  of  July  for  his  work  in  making  it  possible  for 
them  to  get  control  of  and  operate  the  Prince  Charles 
swamp.  Or  they  were  willing  to  let  him  take  a  per- 
centage of  the  profits.  It  was  absolutely  immaterial 
to  them.  They  wanted  him  to  be  satisfied. 

Of  course,  he  would  have  preferred  to  have  the 
real  money  on  the  first  of  July,  because  after  Sep- 
tember he  would  be  using  his  own  "  New  York 
money,"  as  he  called  it,  and  the  percentage  of 
profits  would  not  be  perceptible  if  added  to  his  in- 
come at  that  time.  However,  the  five  thousand 
seemed  more  like  a  bribe  to  him.  He  did  not  like 
the  idea  of  walking  off  the  field  just  as  things  were 
beginning  to  happen.  So  he  said  that  he  would 
take  a  percentage  of  the  profits  and  see  the  thing 
out. 

"In  this  particular  case,"  he  explained,  "that  is 
not  business.  It's  just  my  sporting  blood." 

They  did  not  understand,  but  they  laughed. 

"  Now,"  he  went  on,  "  you  will  need  to  own,  or 
have  the  use  of,  land  between  the  swamp  and  the 
bay." 

"  We  thought  that  would  come  later." 

246 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  I  mention  it,"  said  Morgan,  "  because  I  own 
enough  land  to  take  you  half-way." 

"  Oh,  in  that  case,  we  shall,  of  course,  pay  you  for 
the  privilege  of  crossing  your  land  with  our  pipes," 
said  the  senior  member  of  the  firm.  "  In  fact,  we 
had  better  have  a  contract  drawn  right  now,  allow- 
ing you  a  certain  percentage  of  profits  and  a  reason- 
able rate  for  the  use  of  your  ground." 

A  stenographer  was  called  in,  and  the  terms  of  the 
contract  dictated  to  her.  Morgan  interrupted  at  one 
place,  with  an  almost  mischievous  smile. 

"  In  regard  to  this  water  you  are  piping  across  my 
ground,  I  should  like  to  have  the  privilege  of  tapping 
the  pipe  and  using  what  I  need  of  it." 

He  had  been  giving  this  matter  some  thought 
since  he  had  seen  the  syphon  working. 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  senior  partner,  hurriedly, 
and  dictated  :  "  and  said  party  of  second  part  shall 
have  privilege  of  tapping  in  and  using  as  much  as  he 
shall  desire  of  water  thus  piped  across  said  land. 
Satisfactory  ?  " 

The  young  man  nodded. 

The  contract  was  signed  and  witnessed.  Morgan 
began  to  feel  very  comfortable,  and  when  Perkins, 

who  had  not  been  in  the  room  while  the  document 

247 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

was  being  drawn  up,  at  length  came  marching  in 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  whistling  softly  his 
verson  of  the  Spring  Song,  the  former  began  to 
laugh.  Perkins,  as  quick  as  a  flash,  picked  up  the 
contract. 

"  What  do  you  want  that  water  for  ? "  he  de- 
manded, suspiciously. 

"  Power." 

Perkins  gazed  at  him  with  pursed  lips. 

"  Bonehead  !  bonehead !  "  he  exploded,  and  ad- 
ministered a  kick  upon  his  left  leg  with  his  right  in 
his  most  approved  comedy  manner.  He  turned  to 
the  senior  member. 

"  He  has  a  twenty-foot  head  of  water  there,"  he 
exclaimed. 

"  But  doubtless,"  put  in  Morgan,  reassuringly,  "  a 
very  slow  stream  after  the  bulk  of  the  water  has  been 
drained.  I  hope  to  have  enough  to  run  a  dynamo 
to  give  me  electric  lights  in  the  house." 

Perkins  sank  into  a  chair. 

"Say,  you'll  be  a  millionaire  some  day,"  he  ex 
claimed. 

"  That's  what  I'm  dreading,"  said  Morgan. 

This  was  considered  a  very  good  piece  of  humor, 

and  they  all  laughed  pleasantly. 

248 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

MR.  RUPERT'S  brokers  were  calling  on  him  for 
more  margin.  The  cashier  had  bought  rather 
heavily  in  Pacific  Steel,  because  of  information  he 
had  been  able  to  obtain,  through  a  good  source,  that 
a  larger  dividend  was  to  be  declared  in  the  fall.  At 
present,  manipulators,  who  were  also  perhaps  aware 
of  the  proposed  extra  dividend,  were  hammering  the 
stock  down  to  buy  in  as  low  as  possible ;  and  Rupert 
was  having  a  hard  time  not  to  be  frozen  out.  He 
needed  every  cent  of  money  he  could  get.  Now  was 
no  time  to  think  of  redeeming  bond  issues  of  the 
cypress  company,  so  he  sent  for  Perkins  to  learn  his 
terms. 

Perkins  had  him  in  a  corner.  If  all  the  first-mort- 
gage bonds  were  presented  on  the  first  of  May,  as 
they  would  be  without  a  doubt,  he  should  have  to 
have  more  than  thirty  thousand  dollars  to  redeem 
them,  and  he  had  no  such  sum.  He  (and  this  means 
the  Prince  Charles  Cypress  Company)  had  never  in- 
tended to  have  such  a  sum.  They  had  expected  to 

have  redeemed  the  issue,  not  with  cash,  but  with  the 

249 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

worthless  second-mortgage  bonds  ;  and  now  that  the 
Norfolk  company  had  prevented  this,  they  had  the 
choice  of  either  giving  up  thirty  thousand  dollars  or 
paying  the  former  company  a  lesser  sum  to  accept 
the  title  to  the  swamp  land,  and  with  it  the  responsi- 
bility for  the  bonds.  It  was  only  a  question  of  how 
much  money  they  would  have  to  pay  to  do  this. 

It  is  a  credit  to  Mr.  Rupert's  unhuman  mental 
calm  that  he  wriggled  out  of  the  situation  at  an  ex- 
pense of  eight  thousand  dollars.  Perkins  would 
willingly  have  taken  the  whole  thing  over  for  not 
one  cent,  as  they  expected  to  get  large  returns  from 
the  timber ;  and  he  would  not,  therefore,  press  Mr. 
Rupert  as  hard  as  he  might  have  wished  to,  because 
he  actually  feared  that  the  latter  might  decide  to 
pay  for  the  bonds  and  retain  possession  of  the  land. 
He  was,  therefore,  not  a  little  relieved  when  the  deed 
was  made  out  transferring  the  land  to  his  company. 

"  And  now,"  beamed  Mr.  Rupert,  with  bland  self- 
possession,  "  since  the  entente  cordiale  between  us  is 
so  pronounced,  I  shall  be  more  than  happy  to  give 
you  my  own  personal  note  for  eight  thousand  dol- 
lars. This  is  the  same  as  a  government  bond,"  he 
added,  smiling. 

Perkins  laughed.     Since  the  cashier  was  rated  at 

250 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

much  more  than  that  sum  of  money,  there  was  no 
question  about  accepting  the  note.  The  arrange- 
ments all  completed,  the  former  returned  to  Norfolk 
to  make  arrangements  to  begin  work  immediately 
on  the  cypress. 

Rupert  paid  the  other  men  in  the  Prince  Charles 
Cypress  Company,  now  dissolved,  their  share  of  the 
surplus  with  his  own  personal  note.  These  notes, 
as  well  as  the  one  he  had  given  Perkins,  were  pay- 
able October  first,  after  the  dividend  on  Pacific  Steel 
would  have  been  declared,  and  he  would  be  able  to 
sell  out  and  make  the  "  killing  "  he  had  been  wait- 
ing for  for  years.  All  the  cash  that  should  have  been 
in  the  treasury  of  the  Prince  Charles  Cypress  Com- 
pany had  been  invested  in  steel  stock.  Rupert's 
indebtedness,  including  the  notes  just  given  and  the 
money  borrowed  to  cover  the  drop  in  his  stock,  was 
more  than  fifty  thousand  dollars.  His  interest  on 
this  sum  of  money,  together  with  the  interest  he  was 
paying  on  stock  purchased  on  margin,  was  an 
enormous  sum — three  or  four  times  his  income. 
The  bank  cashier  was  skating  on  thin  ice — skating 
placidly,  however — for  he  stood  to  make  anywhere 
from  five  hundred  thousand  to  a  million  dollars  in 

the   fall,  when   the   dividend  on  Pacific  Steel  was 

251 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

declared.  His  confidence  was  supreme.  He  had 
reliable  information,  and  he  was  accustomed  to  rely- 
ing on  his  own  convictions. 

No  one  would  have  guessed,  from  his  unruffled 
bearing,  that  his  footing  was  at  all  insecure.  In 
fact,  he  scarcely  noticed  it  himself.  He  did  breathe 
a  little  easier  when  the  stock  stood  still  during  May 
and  the  early  part  of  June  ;  and  when,  at  the  end  of 
June,  the  news  of  the  coming  increased  dividend 
began  to  be  generally  known  and  the  stock  went 
slowly  upward,  he  was  more  than  usually  jubilant, 
but  that  was  only  the  excitement  of  the  game. 

When  the  first  of  July  came  it  was  not  necessary 
for  Perkins  to  make  good  his  promise  to  return  the 
bonds  if  work  had  not  been  begun  on  the  cypress. 
By  that  time  the  triple  syphon  had  been  installed 
and  was  in  perfect  running  order.  One  pipe  of  the 
syphon  ran  continually  with  sufficient  head  of  water 
to  run  an  electric  dynamo,  which  generated  electricity 
enough  to  run  an  endless  belt  like  an  escalator,  which 
bore  the  logs  out  of  the  swamp  and  over  the  crest  of 
the  hill,  from  which  place  they  were  hauled  by 
wagon  down  to  the  shore.  Morgan,  by  reason  of 
his  right  to  the  water  power,  was  paid  a  certain  sum 

for  every  log  that  was  lifted  by  the  escalator.     It 

252 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

would  have  been  better  to  say  he  was  to  be  paid,  for 
he  had  received  but  little  money  as  yet,  since  the 
plant  had  not  been  long  in  operation. 

The  whole  thing  was  a  wonder  and  a  source  of 
joy  to  the  community.  They  flocked  out  in  great 
numbers  to  see  Prince  Charles  at  last  alive  with  a 
real  industry,  like  other  progressive  cities;  to  see 
the  water  being  sucked  out  of  the  swamp  by  some 
unseen  agency  ;  to  discover  with  wonder  that  when 
they  thought  they  had  found,  in  the  dynamo,  the 
engine  that  moved  the  water,  it  was  the  other  way 
round  and  the  water  moved  the  engine  ;  to  see  old 
Alexander  Berry's  house  lighted  by  electricity,  with 
an  electric  stove  and  other  electric  devices  (presents 
to  Morgan  from  the  lumber  company)  in  perfect 
running  order.  It  seemed  as  if  wonders  would 
never  cease. 

Mrs.  Rupert  herself  could  not  resist  the  general 
temptation  to  come  and  see  the  unbelievable  things. 
She  found  Morgan  more  enthusiastic  than  any  of 
the  people  who  came  to  see  the  operations. 

"  You  look  so  young  !  "  she  cried. 

"  I  am  bubbling  over,"  he  admitted.  "  The  more 
I  see  of  this  thing  the  more  entertained  I  am.  Feel 
as  if  I'd  done  something  at  last." 

253 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  I  want  to  see  it — quick,"  she  said. 

He  showed  it  to  her.  He  explained  the  things  to 
her.  It  was  as  interesting  as  a  fairy  story — not  be- 
cause the  pipes  and  machines  and  oily  mechanisms 
were  interesting,  but  because  here  was  unlimited 
power  furnished,  not  by  man  stoking  complicated 
engines,  but  by  the  unsupervised  forces  of  nature 
turne^  loose  at  the  proper  point  and  in  the  proper 
manner.  Every  one  could  have  gone  off  and  left  the 
plant,  and  it  would  have  kept  on  operating  just  like 
the  rising  and  setting  of  the  sun,  limited  only  in  the 
length  of  its  operations  by  the  length  of  time  the 
lubricating  oil  held  out. 

"  It  is  very  wonderful,"  she  said,  "  but  I  think  you 
are  more  so." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"I'm  just  theory,"  he  returned.  "These  other 
fellows  are  the  engineers.  They  work  out  things." 
He  laughed.  "  If  this  thing  stopped  running  I 
couldn't  start  it  again." 

"  I  don't  believe  that.  Mr.  Rupert  says  you  have 
an  unusually  accurate  brain,  and  you  are  going  to  be 
a  millionaire  some  day." 

"  Having  an  accurate  brain,"  he  replied,  "  seems 

to  have  its  drawbacks." 

254 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

She  laughed. 

"  Oh ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  want  you  to  see  the 
electric  chafing-dish." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  pleasantly,  "  I  am  hungry." 

He  started  with  her  toward  the  house. 

"  We  can  cook  a  whole  meal  on  electric  things, — 
chafing-dish,  toaster,  percolator.  Let's  do  it." 

She  hesitated. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  smiling,  "  not  again." 

"  Oh,  then  what's  the  use  of  having  them  ?  "  he 
said,  disappointed. 

"  To  show  to  me,  foolish.     Lead  on. 

"This  is  a  very  grand  equipment  for  the  old 
house,"  she  said,  when  they  were  inside,  and  she  saw 
the  electric  lights. 

"  It  is  indeed.  The  poor  old  house  can't  live  up 
to  it." 

She  gazed  about  her  thoughtfully,  and  walked 
about  through  the  rooms  on  the  first  floor. 

"  If  you  were  going  to  stay  here,"  she  said,  at  last, 
"  you  might,  without  straining  this  apparently  large 
income  you  will  get  from  the  cypress,  remodel  the 
house.  You  could  throw  the  living-room  and  dining- 
room  into  one  great  room  with  a  fireplace  at  each 
end.  The  present  kitchen  and  pantry  would  be  the 

255 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

dining-room,  the  present  down-stairs  bedroom  a 
library.  You  could  open  that  stairway  to  come 
right  down  into  the  hall." 

He  looked  the  situation  over. 

"  Wouldn't  that  be  glorious  ?  "  he  said,  "  and  you 
could  have  the  white  balusters  with  a  mahogany  rail 
and  a  colonial  spiral  newel  at  the  bottom — that  you 
could  sit  on,"  he  added,  smiling. 

She  walked  to  the  kitchen  door. 

"  Right  off  there,"  she  went  on  thoughtfully, 
"  would  be  the  kitchen  wing.  And  I  hope  you  would 
have  a  tile  floor  and  tile  walls,  and  a  big  ventilating 
hood  over  the  stove  to  carry  off  all  the  odors." 

"  I  most  certainly  should.  And  every  Saturday 
morning  I'd  have  it  washed  out  with  a  hose." 

"Thursday,  or  Friday,  would  be  a  better  day," 
corrected  the  housewife,  "  but  the  principle  is  the 
same.  And  what  a  wonderful  pantry  one  could 
have  if  it  were  really  made  right." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  You're  spending  too  much  time  on  the  machinery 
part  of  the  house,"  he  said.  "  You  were  just  begin- 
ning to  think  of  a  place  for  the  barrel  of  flour  and  a 
place  for  the  can  of  lard." 

"  Wasn't  I,  indeed.     And  we  hadn't  decided  at  all 

256 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

on  the  red  tiles  for  the  fireplaces  and  high  unpaneled 
wainscot  for  the  walls." 

"  And  for  a  chandelier,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  shoujd 
want  to  take  the  great  pair  of  moose  antlers  in  the 
attic,  and  hang  them  by  iron  chains  from  the  ceiling 
to  support  two  rows  of  electric  light  bulbs  each  shaped 
like  a  candle." 

"  There  would  be  a  porch  at  this  side  on  a  level 
with  the  ground,  paved  with  brick.  And  the  bath- 
rooms." She  smiled  at  the  jump  her  mind  had 
taken.  "  The  three  bath-rooms  are  to  have  cork 
tile  floors,  which  aren't  so  torturing  cold.  Can  you 
imagine  such  a  wonderfully  beautiful  house  as  could 
be  made  out  of  this  unpromising  beginning  ?  " 

•"  No,  indeed.  I  shall  never  dare  to  think  of  it 
again." 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked,  surprised. 

"  Because  I  shall  never  build  it." 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't." 

"  If  I  go  to  New  York,"  he  said,  unconsciously 
quoting,  "  I  shall  have  to  do  just  what  other  people 
of  my — my  own  class  do.  I  must  live  the  same  life 
the  others  live,  or  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  en- 
dure existence  at  all.  And  those  people  would  never 
see  the  charm  of  this  old  place  as  I  have  learned  to 

257 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

see  it.  I  don't  think  I  could  stand  them  ridiculing 
it.  I  should  rather  have  a  pleasant  picture  of  it  in 
my  mind." 

"  Will  you,"  she  asked,  "  carry  away  a  pleasant 
picture  ?  "' 

"  I  think  so,"  he  returned,  slowly,  "  of  every- 
thing." 

"  Everything,"  she  said,  reflectively. 

He  smiled. 

"  Everybody." 

She  laughed,  and,  holding  out  her  hand,  ran 
quickly  down  the  steps. 


258 


CHAPTER  XXV 

JULY  and  August  were  hot,  happy  months  that 
passed  very  quickly.  The  two  young  men  who 
were  running  the  operations  in  the  swamp  lived  with 
Morgan  in  his  house,  and  Perkins,  who  came  up 
periodically  (with  a  lot  of  talk  to  the  effect  that  this 
was  the  slowest  operation  he  ever  had  seen,  any- 
way, and  why  didn't  they  get  busy  with  a  capital  B 
and  let  the  company  realize  a  little  more  than  sixty 
per  cent,  on  their  investment),  would  stay  a  day  or 
two  longer  than  was  absolutely  necessary  to  cool  off 
his  blood.  Norfolk  was  a  trifle  hard  on  his  nerves 
in  summero  He  felt  as  if  he  had  a  fever  all  the  time, 
believe  him.  Very  fond  of  the  hot  bread,  gentle- 
men, but  deliver  him  from  the  hot  nights.  A  little 
vacation  with  old  scout  Morgan,  sitting  in  the  midst  of 
a  circle  of  electric  fans,  made  him  feel  like  a  new  man 
One  Saturday  morning  when  a  log  came  up  the 
escalator  sideways,  and  broke  things  up  generally  so 
that  operations  had  to  be  stopped  for  the  day,  they 
turned  the  whole  force  of  men  loose  on  a  little  spot 

of    cleared    land    behind   Morgan's  house.      They 

259 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

hauled  sand  and  gravel,  and  rolled  and  leveled  the 
ground  to  a  quarter  of  an  inch  by  the  surveyor's  in- 
strument ;  and  by  nightfall  had  an  extraordinarily 
good  beginning  for  a  tennis  court.  They  sprinkled  it 
and  rolled  it  every  night  for  a  week,  and  in  the  end 
it  turned  out  to  be  a  very  fine  affair.  Every  evening 
thereafter  they  played  there  until  the  sun  had  sunk 
behind  the  trees  of  the  swamp,  and  dark  grew  so 
thick  they  could  scarcely  see  the  balls.  When 
Perkins  came  he  would  stretch  out  in  a  steamer  chair 
by  the  side-lines,  and  comment  caustically  on  the 
ability  of  the  contestants.  When  he  felt  it  was  din- 
ner time  he  would  step  out  on  the  court  with  a  com- 
manding air  and  take  down  the  net.  Thus  the 
summer  and  the  early  part  of  September  passed 
pleasantly,  and  one  day,  Perkins,  newly  arrived  on 
the  side-wheeler  from  Norfolk,  burst  in  upon  them 
and  exploded  the  bomb  that  seemed  to  set  a  period 
to  it  all. 

"  You're  the  scoundrel ! "  he  cried,  shaking  in 
Morgan's  face  what  appeared  to  be  the  illustrated 
supplement  of  a  Sunday  newspaper.  "  Trying  to  put 
one  over  on  us  all  the  time.  Never  heard  of  such 
four-flushing  in  all  my  life.  And  we  trusted  you  like 
a  brother." 

260 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  sat  down  and  fanned  himself  with  the  paper. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Morgan. 

Perkins  tossed  him  the  newspaper. 

"  Read  that ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Keep  yourself  in- 
formed. Follow  the  events  of  the  day." 

The  other  two  rose  to  have  a  look  at  the  sheet  too. 
The  head-lines  said : 

WHERE  Is  MORGAN  HOLT? 

Young  Millionaire  Mysteriously  Missing 
Last  heard  of  as  passenger 
on   boat  from   Baltimore 
to  Norfolk.     Probable  that 
he  never  reached  Norfolk. 

The  article  went  on  to  say  that  nearly  a  year  be- 
fore the  young  "multimillionaire"  who  had  come 
into  his  money  had  suddenly  disappeared  without 
having  previously  announced  to  any  one  that  he  in- 
tended to  go  away.  It  had  been  given  out  that  poor 
health  had  compelled  him  to  seek  change  of  air  in 
Europe ;  and  malicious  gossip  had  at  one  time  inti- 
mated that  he  was  a  changling,  and  not  entitled  to 
his  inheritance.  While  this  gossip  had  subsided,  so- 
ciety in  general  had  not  understood  his  disappear- 
ance, which  was  generally  looked  upon  as  rather  an 

extraordinary    proceeding.      This    view    was     im- 

261 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

measurably  heightened  when  it  was  discovered  (of 
course  by  a  representative  of  that  particular  news- 
paper) that  Morgan  Holt  had  not  sailed  for  Europe  at 
all,  but  when  last  heard  of  had  been  a  passenger  on 
a  steamer  for  Norfolk.  He  seemed  never  to  have 
landed  in  that  town,  and  employees  of  the  steamship 
company  remembered  finding  his  baggage  and  over- 
coat in  his  stateroom,  which  were  later,  in  response 
to  a  telegram,  expressed  to  his  home  in  New  York. 

They  made  a  very  delectable  story  of  it.  A  sketch 
of  his  life  and  the  career  of  his  father,  together  with 
an  estimate  as  to  the  probable  amount  of  the  fortune, 
followed.  Added  to  this  was  a  column  of  conjecture 
as  to  what  had  happened,  with  information  as  to 
which  persons  would  receive  the  money  in  case  Mor- 
gan Holt  were  now  dead.  In  the  very  center  of  the 
page  was  a  photograph  that  young  man  remembered 
a  cousin  of  his  had  snapped  one  afternoon  during  the 
tennis  tournament,  the  only  good  portrait  of  himself 
he  had  ever  seen. 

"Do  you  suppose  the  poor  fellow  can  be  dead?" 
asked  Morgan,  sympathetically,  when  he  had  read 
the  article. 

Perkins  rose. 

"  Cut  it  out ! "  he  exclaimed.     "  You  can't  pull 
262 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

that  bluff  any  more.  The  beans  are  spilled,  I  tell 
you.  Look  at  that  picture.  Speaking  likeness.  I 
can  hear  it  all  the  way  over  here." 

"  Sit  down  and  have  dinner  with  us,  Perkins," 
returned  the  young  man. 

"  Thanks,  very  much."  He  set  a  place  at  the 
table  for  himself.  "  The  reason  I  bought  this  paper 
was  because  the  date  this  Morgan  Holt  fellow  sailed 
from  Baltimore  was  September  28th,  and  the  date 
that  the  chap  over  there  named  Henry  Morgan 
registered  at  the  Prince  Charles  Tavern,  after  having 
swum  ashore  (presumably  from  Europe  or  the  coast 
of  Africa,  and  not  the  Baltimore  boat),  was  Sep- 
tember 29th.  Add  to  that  that  his  watch  is  engraved 
with  the  initials  '  M.  H.,'  and  he  looks  like  this 
picture  in  the  paper,  and  I  think  you  have  a  very 
interesting  series  of  pure  coincidences — pure  and 
simple  coincidences.  Nothing  to  it,  of  course.  Just 
coincidences." 

Morgan  laughed. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said  quietly,  "  I'm  Morgan  Holt. 
Didn't  you  know  that  ?  "  he  added,  naively. 

Perkins  gazed  at  him  malevolently. 

"That   will  be  about  all   of  that,"   he   decided. 

"  Tell  us  about  it." 

263 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Just  a  stunt.  Incognito  for  a  year.  Chance  to 
see  some  other  phase  of  life." 

He  answered  their  questions  freely,  but  said  noth- 
ing about  Madeleine  Graham.  They  all  gazed  at 
him  spellbound. 

"  And,  to  get  down  to  vulgar  details,"  said 
Perkins,  "  how  much  are  you  worth  ?  " 

"  It's  an  incredible  sum — thirty  millions  or  more." 

"  Great  grab  !  "  cried  the  other. 

The  idea  was  as  incomprehensible  to  the  three 
men  as  it  was  to  Morgan  himself.  Thirty  millions  ! 
Morgan  had  so  revised  his  ideas  as  to  sums  of 
money,  since  he  had  been  earning  it,  that  thirty 
dollars  seemed  a  large  amount.  Thirty  millions  was 
inconceivable — like  infinity.  It  gave  him  a  sense  of 
unpleasant  dizziness  to  think  about  it — the  same 
feeling  he  would  have  had  in  looking  down  from  the 
top  of  a  high  building — so  high  that  it  appeared  im- 
possible that  such  a  building  could  ever  have  been 
built. 

He  was  not  disturbed  that  his  identity  had  been 
discovered.  He  realized  that,  as  soon  as  Perkins 
sent  his  telegram  to  Norfolk  telling  the  firm  who  he 
was,  every  one  in  Prince  Charles  would  know  it. 

But  they  had   to   know   it  soon,   anyway.     In  two 

264 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

weeks  his  year  was  up,  and  he  should  return 
to  his  home  and  money  and  friends.  At  that 
time  the  news  of  his  identity  would  become  public 
property.  He  was  nervous  about  the  notoriety  of 
it.  Having  been  simply  an  ordinary  citizen,  com- 
ing and  going  unnoticed,  he  shrank  from  stepping 
out  on  the  center  of  the  stage,  as  he  must  when  he 
returned  to  "  his  own."  However,  he  wrote  a  letter 
to  Mr.  Cogshell,  his  lawyer,  directing  him  to  make  a 
statement  in  regard  to  his  whereabouts,  and  resigned 
himself  to  his  fate. 

The  news  spread  over  the  countryside  like  wild- 
fire. He  awoke  one  morning  to  find  himself  un- 
pleasantly famous.  The  seclusion  of  the  old  house 
gave  way  to  a  pageant  of  curious  and  congratula- 
tory people.  Every  one  for  miles  around  called 
upon  him.  His  afternoons  were  a  series  of  recep- 
tions. The  poor  old  place  was  transformed.  Gay, 
bubbling  maidens,  in  bright,  frivolous  clothes, 
crowded  the  porches,  the  shady  spots  under  the 
great  trees,  the  borders  of  the  tennis  court.  All 
the  young  men,  scenting  revelry  from  afar,  tore 
themselves  from  their  several  tasks  and  tagged  after 
the  frivolous  gowns.  Mothers  sat  in  easy  chairs,  as 

far  as  the  limited  number  of  easy  chairs  would  go. 

265 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Morgan's  bill  for  oranges,  lemons,  indigestible  cakes 
and  the  like  was  very  large.  In  a  word,  he  per- 
ceived that  he  had  become  a  public  personage. 

He  was  not  enthusiastic  over  the  change.  It  was 
with  no  feeling  of  joy  that  he  looked  forward  to  his 
return  home  to  pomp  and  circumstance.  He  had 
been  away  from  it  so  long  that  it  scarcely  seemed  as 
if  he  had  ever  really  led  such  a  life.  Had  it  been  a 
return  to  Madeleine,  it  would  have  been  different. 
But  how  unlike  the  return  he  had  looked  forward  to 
a  year  ago  was  the  actual  one  he  was  now  to  make. 
He  had  succeeded  in  his  venture,  to  be  sure,  beyond 
his  fondest  hopes,  but  the  reward  had  been  with- 
drawn. The  person  he  cared  more  for  than  all  the 
others — by  a  hundredfold — would  not  be  among 
those  to  welcome  him. 

At  least  this  is  what  he  thought  for  one  unsettled, 
unsatisfactory  week.  Then  suddenly,  to  his  great 
surprise,  he  found  one  day  among  his  mail  a  letter 
in  a  familiar  handwriting  (the  first  in  four  months) 
addressed  to  "  Morgan  Holt,  care  of  Henry  Morgan, 
Prince  Charles."  He  tore  it  open.  It  read : 

"  DEAR  BOY  : 

"  As  if  nothing  had  happened,  you  see.    I  have 
been  punishing  myself  ever  since.     I  was  wrong, — 

266 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

all  wrong.  I  put  myself  in  your  hands.  It  would 
serve  me  right  if  you  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
me  now. 

"  Contritely, 

"  MADELEINE." 

Morgan  read  it  again.     He   gave  the  telegraph 
boy  a  dollar  to  send  her  this  telegram  : 
"  Coming  on  the  twenty-fifth." 


267 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

^EPTEMBER  twenty-fourth.  Early  afternoon  at 
*•-}  the  old  house  once  Alexander  Berry's.  Half- 
grown  collie  pup  frisking  about,  ignorant  that  title 
to  his  person  had  just  been  made  over  to  one  of  the 
men  in  charge  of  the  cypress  operation.  Trunk 
packed  and  ready  on  the  front  porch.  Shutters 
closed  in  the  second-story  rooms,  padlocks  on  the 
new  pump  house,  with  its  electric  motor  within,  and 
on  the  other  heterogeneous  surrounding  structures  ; 
chairs  taken  in  from  the  lawn  and  porch,  and  gen- 
eral blank  air  of  desolation  pervading.  Motor  car 
entering  the  lane,  in  which  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Joseph 
Rupert  coming  to  call. 

This  was  the  picture  that  Morgan  Holt  saw, 
standing  for  almost  the  last  time  on  his  front  porch, 
looking  at  the  last  red  sunset  behind  the  trees.  He 
knew  the  Ruperts  were  coming.  Mr.  Rupert,  de- 
ciding easily  that  since  Morgan  was  so  much  of  a 
personage,  it  might  be  well  to  be  gracious,  had 

called   up   the   young   man  on  the  telephone  and 

268 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

pleasantly  suggested  that  he  and  Mrs.  Rupert  stop 
for  a  minute  to  bid  him  good-bye. 

Had  it  not  been  for  Mrs.  Rupert,  Morgan  would 
have  been  tempted  to  make  some  excuse,  but  as 
Mrs.  Rupert  had  been  included,  he  had  urged  them 
to  come.  He  understood  the  bank  cashier's  motive, 
in  the  main.  That  gentleman  considered  it  in- 
advisable to  have  any  misunderstanding  existing 
between  him  and  persons  of  importance,  and  he 
could,  with  his  calm  self-possession,  outwardly  patch 
up  any  bad  feeling  by  simply  seeming  to  forget  it 
and  saying  nothing  about  it. 

"  Can't  get  out,"  cried  Rupert,  holding  out  his 
chubby,  well  groomed  hand.  "  Just  came  to  God- 
speed the  sojourner  in  our  midst." 

His  wife  leaned  forward. 

"  It  has  been  almost  a  year,"  she  said,  "  since  we 
found  you  on  the  beach." 

"  A  very  wonderful  year  for  me,"  he  said,  gravely. 
"  I  can  hardly  make  up  my  mind  to  go  back." 

"  Don't  go,"  she  exclaimed,  quickly. 

"  The  gentleman  is  rich,"  explained  her  husband. 
"  Rich  people  live  in  New  York.  He  must  also  live 
there,  or  Providence  would  take  his  money  away 

from  him." 

269 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Mrs.  Rupert  adjusted  her  veil. 

"  I  don't  want  Providence  to  take  his  money 
away,  but  I  am  very  sorry  he  has  to  go." 

"  I've  been  blue  all  day  about  it,"  he  re- 
plied. 

She  laughed. 

"  Stay  here  !  "  she  said.  "  Disappoint  the  " — she 
stopped — "  the  people  up  there,"  she  ended. 

Mr.  Rupert  looked  interested. 

"  You  could  build  an  ancestral  hall  right  here," 
he  observed,  "  you,  of  course,  being  the  ancestor. 
Tudor  houses  are  being  used  extensively  this  year 
for  ancestral  halls.  Don't  you  know,  little  diamond 
paned  windows,  stone  tracery,  and  so  forth.  Some- 
thing very  elegant  and  distingue  could  be  con- 
structed here  by  a  person  desiring  to  be  an  ancestor. 
Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  like  the  idea  of  remodeling  the  present 
house  better." 

Mrs.  Rupert  clapped  her  hands. 

"  True  !  "  she  cried.     "  That's  my  idea." 

It  was  indeed  her  idea. 

"  My  wife  differs  from  me  in  public,"  observed  Mr. 
Rupert.  "  I  cannot  teach  her  always  to  agree  with 

me  when  others  are  present.     We  must  go.     Good- 

270 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

bye,  Holt,"  he  said,  genially.  "  If  at  any  time  again 
you  feel  an  irresistible  desire  to  be  washed  up  by 
the  sea,  let  me  know  and  I  will  meet  you  with  my 
entire  wardrobe." 

The  young  man  thanked  him.  Mrs.  Rupert 
stepped  quickly  out  of  the  automobile.  The 
chauffeur  started  back  toward  the  house  to  turn. 
Her  husband  remained  seated. 

"I  had  to  get  out  and  show  you  the  proper  re- 
spect. Good-bye  ;  I  shall  miss  you." 

He  took  her  hand. 

"  Thank  you.     Good-bye." 

"  You  go  on  the  stage  this  evening  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Somehow  the  occasion  was  not  pleasant.  He  felt 
as  if  he  were  saying  good-bye  to  some  one  he  should 
not  see  again. 

"And  the  girl  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  It  is  all  right.  She  wrote — asking  me  to  come 
back." 

"  I  see.     I'm  very  glad." 

The  machine  came  back. 

"  Good-bye." 

"  Good-bye." 

He  helped  her  in.     She  waved   her  hand.     Mr. 
271 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Rupert  bowed.  They  swept  by  and  left  him  stand- 
ing before  the  house. 

She  still  had  that  picture  of  him,  standing  before 
the  house  in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun,  waving  his 
hand  to  her.  When  she  next  drove  by  the  house,  it 
would  be  still  and  quiet ;  and  he  would  not  run  out  to 
wave  his  hand  to  her.  If  he  had  given  her  his  dog ! 
Why  had  she  not  asked  him  for  the  dog,  the  frisking 
collie  puppy  ?  Why  should  the  man  who  bossed 
the  cypress  cutting  have  the  dog? 

She  said  nothing  on  the  way  home,  but  sat  close 
to  her  side  of  the  car,  leaving  a  clear  space  of  seat 
between  her  and  the  man  beside  her.  And  he,  deep 
in  his  prospects  of  prosperity,  now  that  the  extra 
dividend  on  Pacific  Steel  seemed  all  but  assured,  paid 
no  attention  to  her.  She  looked  at  her  watch.  It 
was  half-past  four.  In  an  hour  the  stage  left.  It 
would  seem  worse  when  the  stage  had  gone. 

Quarter  to  five  by  the  clock  in  the  hall  of  her  own 
house  as  she  passed  through.  She  went  to  the 
kitchen  and  gave  sundry  trifling  directions  for  the 
dinner — just  as  if  this  were  an  ordinary  day  and  it 
made  any  difference  about  the  dinner.  In  the  hall 
were  two  bills.  She  took  them  up-stairs  to  her  room, 

and   sitting   down   at  the  little  desk  there  drew  two 

272 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

checks  for  the  proper  amounts,  enclosed  them  and 
directed  the  envelopes.  She  wiped  her  pen  and 
closed  the  desk. 

Quarter-past  five  by  the  little  French  clock  on  her 
dressing  table.  She  stood  by  her  window  overlook- 
ing the  darkening  road.  It  was  a  light  ribbon  be- 
tween the  green  fields.  She  could  see  a  hundred 
yards  either  way  on  it.  Beyond,  the  wide  bay 
stretched  away  indefinitely.  There  were  fifteen 
minutes  more.  She  would  make  the  most  of  them. 
The  clock  ticked  on.  She  heard  the  rattle  of  horses' 
hoofs  in  the  distance,  long  before  the  crazy  old  stage 
came  in  sight.  And  presently — it  seemed  as  if  it 
could  not  really  be — it  emerged  from  behind  the 
pines,  swinging  slowly  along,  the  reins  about  the 
whip  and  the  driver  lighting  his  pipe.  Her  eyes  did 
not  leave  it  from  the  time  she  first  saw  it  until  it  dis- 
appeared again  behind  the  trees  at  the  far  end  of  the 
road.  She  did  not  move  until  the  footfalls  had  died 
entirely  away  in  the  distance.  And  then,  hands 
clenched,  she  threw  herself  face  downward  on  the 
bed. 

Quarter  of  six  by  the  little  French  clock. 


273 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

next  day  was  chill  and  raw.  A  fine  drizzle 
-i-  fell  on  the  metropolitan  streets.  Morgan  looked 
at  the  lines  of  taxicabs  as  if  he  had  no  idea  of  their 
use,  and  stepping  out  into  the  damp  streets,  walked 
home,  carrying  his  bag. 

He  had  accomplished  everything  he  had  set  out 
to  accomplish.  He  had  earned  his  living — and 
more — for  one  year.  He  had  proved  his  ability  to 
accomplish  things  without  the  aid  of  his  father's 
money  or  his  own  position  as  a  rich  man.  He  had 
won  the  girl  he  wanted.  Nothing  more  could  be 
desired. 

He  shivered  uncomfortably  as  he  nodded  to  the 
man  who  opened  his  own  front  door  for  him.  He 
had  rather  hoped  it  would  be  the  old  servant,  but,  as 
Cogshell  had  closed  the  house  during  the  year,  and 
had  only  opened  it  as  the  time  for  his  return  drew 
near,  the  old  servants  were  not  available.  He  had 
hoped  that  a  fine  fire  of  logs  would  be  burning  in 
the  hall  fireplace,  but  it  was  bare  and  cold,  and 

brushed  clean.     The  hall,  always  dark,  smelt  close 

274 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

and  musty.  He  pressed  the  button  of  the  electric 
elevator. 

"  Elevator  is  not  working,  sir,"  said  the  man.  "  It 
is  to  be  fixed  to-day." 

He  walked  up  the  double  staircase.  Everything 
throughout  the  house  was  scrupulously  clean  and  in 
order.  Not  a  book  or  magazine  or  paper  lay  about 
anywhere.  The  furniture  was  placed  with  studied 
care,  each  piece  with  some  geometric  relation  to  the 
others,  and  gave  no  illusion  of  having  been  used  at 
any  time.  It  would  have  been  fitting  to  have  had 
each  room  roped  off  with  a  silk  cord  as  they  do  in 
the  state  apartments  of  castles  and  executive  man- 
sions on  view  to  the  public. 

He  was  glad  he  could  assure  himself  that  his  year 
had  been  so  successful,  or  the  unhuman  aspect  of  the 
house  would  have  made  him  very  dismal.  It  was 
not  like  home.  It  had  more  the  aspect  of  having 
been  some  one  else's  home — some  time  before.  In- 
deed, that  was  quite  the  truth,  for  it  was  a  changed 
Morgan  Holt  who  returned  to  it,  although  he  did  not 
fully  realize  it. 

The  news  of  his  arrival  brought  forth  the  butler 
and  the  housekeeper.  These  were  the  old  ones, 

which  fact  cheered  him  considerably.     A  fine  bath, 

275 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

clean  clothes  and  a  good  breakfast  further  warmed 
his  heart.  He  was  rather  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to  do 
with  his  time.  They  told  him  his  electric  was  in 
readiness  for  him,  and  that  the  big  touring  car  was 
also  in  shape,  but  he  decided  to  walk.  At  the  door 
the  man  handed  him  his  gloves  and  stick.  He 
looked  at  them  with  some  curiosity,  shook  his  head, 
and  went  out  without  them.  He  walked  in  the  park 
like  an  ordinary  individual. 

About  noon  he  returned  and  called  up  Madeleine. 
She  had  gone  out,  but  had  left  word  that  she  could 
see  him  at  four  o'clock.  The  news  of  his  arrival  had 
spread.  There  had  been  many  telephone  calls  for 
him.  Mr.  Cogshell,  the  lawyer,  had  called  up  four 
times  during  the  morning.  Morgan  called  him  up 
and  found  he  had  gone  out.  His  secretary  said  there 
was  extremely  important  business. 

In  the  afternoon  he  walked  down  Fifth  Avenue 
looking  in  the  shop-windows.  He  forgot  entirely  to 
be  aware  of  the  people  around  him  on  the  street,  un- 
til, after  about  half  an  hour,  he  found  he  was  attract- 
ing considerable  attention.  People  in  vehicles  were 
endeavoring  to  bow  to  him.  He  spoke  to  a  host  of 
people,  with  faces  dimly  familiar,  and  wondered  who 

they  were.     Sometimes  a  car  drew  up  to  the  curb, 

276 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

and  he  found  himself  saying  purposeless  things, 
which  he  recognized  as  an  inferior  brand  of  "  small 
talk." 

Back  at  the  house  again,  he  hesitated  for  a  mo- 
ment over  a  braided  cutaway  coat  the  valet  had  laid 
out  for  him.  To  the  latter's  surprise,  however,  he 
decided  against  it,  and  put  on  a  suit  of  homespun. 

"  I  had  Burley's  send  up  some  of  these  new  scarfs, 
sir,"  said  the  man.  "  Very  English,  sir.  They  are 
being  worn." 

"  How  do  you  tie  'em  ?  " 

"  I  can  show  you  the  idea,  sir." 

The  man  made  two  dexterous  turns  with  the  silk, 
and  slid  the  knot  in  place.  Morgan  shook  his  head. 

"  Too  advanced,  Jordan.  Get  me  an  old  standby. 
Something  suitable  for  a  man  of  fifty." 

The  man's  face  fell. 

"  I  thought  it  suited  you  well,  sir." 

"  I'll  let  you  bring  me  up  to  date  later  on,"  the 
young  man  said,  "  but  we  must  go  slowly." 

Before  he  went  to  Madeleine's,  Mr.  Cogshell  called 
up  again.  He  endeavored  to  get  Morgan  to  come 
to  see  him  immediately,  as  the  business  was  of 
"  paramount  importance."  He  seemed  to  be  rather 

agitated,  but  the  young  man  said  it  would  be  impos- 

277 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

sible  until  the  next  day.  They  made  arrangements 
for  a  meeting  the  very  first  thing  in  the  morning. 

Morgan  was  greeted  at  the  Grahams'  by  Made- 
leine's father. 

"  Congratulations,  my  boy,"  he  said,  in  his  exag- 
gerated manner.  "  Your  name  is  on  every  one's 
lips.  Every  one's,  b'  George  !  Welcome  back." 

The  other  thanked  him. 

"  You  are  the  most  important  man  in  New  York. 
I  always  said,  sir,  that  every  rich  young  man,  every 
one  of  'em,  ought  to  go  away  for  a  year.  Ought  to 
have  done  it  myself,  by  gad." 

"  I  do  not  regret  it,"  Morgan  returned. 

Madeleine  entered.  Her  father  presently  retired. 
She  walked  close  up  to  Morgan  and  looked  at  him, 
half  smiling. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ? "  she  de- 
manded. 

"  Keep  you,"  he  said. 

"  If  you  hadn't  been  so  everlastingly  hard-headed 
last  spring,"  she  said,  "  we  might  have  had  a  basis 
of  understanding.  I  see  I  am  going  to  have  a  hard 
time  with  you." 

She  smiled. 

"  Well,"  he  returned,  "  we'll  have  to  get  adjusted 

278 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Coming  back  to  this  life  is  like  learning  a  new  lan- 
guage. If  you'll  be  patient  with  me,  I  think,  in  time, 
I  shall  give  entire  satisfaction." 

She  put  both  her  hands  on  his  shoulders. 

"  Patient  with  you  !  I  think  you  are  perfect.  Do 
you  suppose  I  would  have  humbled  myself  in  the 
dust  for  any  other  man  ?  " 

"  Do  you  still,"  he  said,  "  have  the  same  am- 
bition?'' 

"  A  thousand  times  !  "  she  cried.  "  The  symptoms 
are  aggravated.  You  yourself,  by  all  this  newspaper 
notoriety,  have  got  yourself  so  gloriously  in  the  lime- 
light that  the  game  is  half-way  won  already." 

"  Oh,  I  myself  have  been  helping  ?  " 

"  Like  a  Trojan.  And  now  I  want  you  to  kiss 
me — customary  thing,  you  know — and  sit  down 
here  by  me  and  talk  real  business." 

He  did  the  first  of  these  accurately  and  neatly, 
and  sat  beside  her. 

"  As  a  love-maker,  Morgan,"  she  cried,  "  you  are 
a  prize — impetuous  and  irresistible.  As  soon  as 
you  are  told  to  kiss  a  girl,  you  do  it." 

He  laughed. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  wait  to  be  told." 

"  And  now  for  the  business."     She  took  his  hand 
279 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

and  touched  his  first  finger.  "  The  first  thing  is  the 
announcement  of  the  engagement.  Mother  wishes 
to  announce  it  on  the  first  of  October.  Will  that  be 
satisfactory  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  a  little  bewildered  at  this  business- 
like promptness,  "  I  suppose  the  sooner  we  get  it 
over  with — what  I  mean  is,"  he  corrected,  hastily, 
"what  is  the  use  of  delaying? " 

"  My  idea  exactly,"  she  cried. 

She  ticked  off  on  the  second  finger. 

"  Point  number  two — the  wedding.  What  are 
your  ideas  about  it  ?  " 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "church  wedding,  middle  of  the 
day,  big  bridal  party — all  those  things.  The  people 
expect  it." 

"  I  mean,  when  ?  " 

He  hesitated. 

"  Why,"  he  returned,  rather  overwhelmed  by  the 
definiteness  of  things,  "  not  more  than  a  year,  1 
should  say.  How  about  June  ?  " 

She  laughed. 

"  Oh,  you  hasty  thing !  I  was  thinking  of  the 
day  before  Thanksgiving." 

"  By  all  means  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  The  day  be- 
fore Thanksgiving.  Why  didn't  I  think  of  it?" 

280 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

She  put  her  finger  on  his  mouth. 

"  If  you  don't  stop  this  chaffing,"  she  said,  severely, 
"  I'll  elope  with  you." 

He  became  serious. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said.  "  We  have  decided  on  the 
day  before  Thanksgiving." 

"  That's  all  just  now,  then,"  she  returned.  "  The 
details  we  can  take  up  later.  We  just  want  to 
know  how  much  time  we  have.  Two  months  is  a 
most  awfully  short  space.  I  hate  to  think  of  getting 
ready  in  that  time." 

"  It  sounds  very  hard,"  he  said,  vaguely. 

She  looked  at  him  closely. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  thoughtfully,  "  you  do 
not  sound  very  glad  about  this." 

He  closed  his  lips  firmly. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  he  exclaimed,  "  if  I  didn't  want  to 
marry  you,  I  shouldn't  have  asked  you.  A  year  ago 
I  said  I  wanted  to,  and  you  promised,  in  a  way,  you 
would,  if  I  made  good  in  my  effort  to  make  my  own 
living.  I  did  make  good.  You  were  what  I  was 
working  for.  You  are  the  only  girl  among  all 
these  people  here  I  care  a  straw  about.  I  couldn't 
live  here  in  New  York  without  you.  I  am  entirely 

satisfied." 

281 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"You  are  satisfied,  of  course,  but  are  you  glad, 
overjoyed  ?  " 

He  turned  to  her  smiling. 

"What  a  prober  you  are,"  he  replied,  easily. 
"How  about  you,  yourself?  How  do  you  feel 
about  it  ?  Are  you  glad  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I'm  glad,"  she  cried.  "  How  can  you 
ask?" 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  with  a  certain  resolute- 
ness, and  looked  her  squarely  in  the  eyes. 

"  We  are  going  to  be  very  happy,"  he  said  firmly. 

She  looked  at  him  uncomprehendingly,  as  if  she 
thought  it  were  not  necessary  to  say  that. 

"  Of  course,"  she  murmured. 

"  Very  happy,"  he  repeated. 

"  Of  course,  very  happy.  We  have  everything  to 
make  us  happy.  If  we  hadn't,"  she  said  lightly,  "  I 
shouldn't  marry  you." 


282 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  clock  was  striking  nine  as  Morgan  entered 
Mr.  Cogshell's  private  office.  He  greeted  the 
lawyer  warmly. 

"  How  about  this  Pacific  Steel  Stock  ?  "  he  asked 
the  lawyer,  as  he  sat  down  beside  the  flat  top  desk. 
"  I  am  going  to  follow  these  things  now  I  am  to 
have  charge  of  this  big  fortune." 

Cogshell  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

"  What  about  the  stock  ?  " 

"  I  saw  by  last  night's  paper  that  they  did  not 
declare  the  increased  dividend,  which  has  been  ex- 
pected, and  that  the  stock,  as  a  result,  dropped  some 
frightful  number  of  points.  Lots  of  people  were 
cleaned  out." 

"  Oh,  yes.     But  what  has  that  to  do  with  you  ?  " 

"  Did  I  have  any  of  the  stock?" 

The  other  looked  relieved. 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  he  said. 

"  I  thought  perhaps,"  said  Morgan,  "  that  that  was 
the  business  you  had  with  me." 

"  Not  at  all.     The  business,"  Cogshell  went  on, 

283 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

briskly,  "  is  the  same  business  I  spoke  to  you  about 
a  year  ago.  We  thought  for  a  time  it  would  blow 
over,  but  it  has  finally  come  to  a  head,"  he  con- 
cluded, mixing  his  metaphors  in  a  thoroughly  busi- 
nesslike way. 

"  In  connection  with  this  you  asked  me  at  one  time 
if  I  had  a  mole  between  my  shoulder-blades,  or  some- 
where." 

"  Exactly." 

Cogshell  looked  at  him  keenly. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Morgan. 

"  The  story  is  rather  a  long  one,"  said  the  lawyer. 
"  It  begins  away  back  at  the  time  of  your  birth. 
Your  mother  and  father  were  on  their  way  to  New 
York  from  Florida,  when  it  was  discovered  that  the 
motion  of  the  train  had  precipitated  the  event,  and 
your  father's  physician,  whom  your  father  had  ac- 
company them  (so  fearful  was  he  that  an  accident 
would  occur),  advised  them  to  go  no  further  than 
Philadelphia.  Your  mother  was  taken  to  a  hospital 
in  Philadelphia,  two  other  doctors  rushed  over  from 
New  York,  and  in  three  hours  a  child  was  pre- 
maturely born.  You  perhaps  know  this." 

Morgan  nodded,  wondering. 

"  Your  father   was  almost   frantic  with   anxiety. 
284 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  had  set  his  heart  on  having  a  son.  This  child 
was  a  son,  but  a  weak,  frail  son  whom  the  three 
doctors  worked  on  hopelessly,  with  artificial  respira- 
tion, endeavoring  to  bring  it  to  life,  but  without  suc- 
cess. There  was  a  nurse  in  the  room  at  the  time. 
And  the  distinguishing  mark  of  this  child  was  a 
mole  high  up  on  his  back." 

The  young  man  noted  that  the  other  continually 
referred  to  him  as  "  this  child."  He  made  no  com- 
ment, however. 

"  The  three  doctors,"  pursued  Cogshell,  "  are  all 
dead.  The  nurse  is  alive." 

"  I  see,"  said  Morgan,  to  fill  in  a  pause. 

"  The  situation  was  this.  The  doctors  did  not 
have  the  heart  to  tell  your  father  that  the  child  would 
not  live.  While  they  were  debating  the  question,  a 
child,  just  born  of  an  unfortunate  woman  in  the  free 
ward,  was  brought  into  the  nursery  to  be  weighed. 
The  three  doctors  looked  at  each  other,  and  imme- 
diately sent  the  nurse  out  of  the  room  on  some 
pretext.  She  was  curious  enough  to  observe,  before 
she  went,  however,  that  the  free  ward  baby  had  no 
blemish — at  least  not  on  its  back." 

Morgan  clasped  the  arms  of  his  chair. 

"  I  think  I  see  the  connection,"  he  said,  evenly. 

285 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  What  may  have  happened  is,  of  course,  appar- 
ent." Mr.  Cogshell  unfolded  a  white  handkerchief 
and  mopped  his  brow.  "  When  the  nurse  returned," 
he  said,  "  both  babies  were  gone.  Your  mother  was 
immediately  put  on  a  wheeled  cot  and  taken  to  an- 
other part  of  the  hospital.  Three  weeks  later,  ac- 
cording to  the  hospital  records,  she  and  her  child  left 
the  institution.  The  same  record  shows  that  the  free 
ward  baby  died." 

Morgan  met  the  lawyer's  eye. 

"  How  has  this  come  to  light  ?  " 

"  The  nurse  told  about  it." 

"  Why  had  she  not  told  of  it  before  ?  " 

"  Well,  she  had  never  been  approached.  She  was 
most  liberally  paid  for  her  services,  and  she  did  not 
wish  to  cause  trouble  to  your  father,  with  no  appar- 
ent object.  And,  of  course,  her  chance  of  making  a 
living  as  a  nurse  would  not  be  bright  if  she 
antagonized  the  whole  medical  profession  by  expos- 
ing three  most  prominent  doctors,  who  had  per- 
formed a  criminal  act  with  the  best  intentions  in  the 
world." 

"  Of  course,"  put  in  Morgan,  "  of  course  she  could 
do  nothing  else." 

"  Now  the  question  arises — did  the  doctors  change 

286 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

the  real  son  of  Mrs.  Holt  for  the  pauper  boy  born  at 
the  same  time  ?  Or  did  her  boy  actually  live,  and 
the  pauper  boy  die,  as  shown  by  the  record  ?  " 

Morgan  was  thinking.  All  this  was  very  astonish- 
ing. 

"  One  thing  was  in  your — our — favor,"  went  on 
Cogshell,  with  the  air  of  a  man  filling  in  the  time 
until  his  companion  should  say  something  he  wanted 
to  hear ;  "  the  record  shows  that  the  free  ward  baby 
had  some  trouble,  due  to  hasty  work  by  the  hospital 
interne." 

The  desk  telephone  rang.  The  lawyer  swung 
round  to  answer  it.  As  he  did  so  he  knocked  his 
newspaper  off  upon  the  floor.  Morgan  picked  it  up 
and  looked  at  it  listlessly. 

"  Will  the  testimony  of  this  nurse,"  he  said,  when 
the  other  had  finished,  "  be  sufficient  to  deprive  me 
of  the  property  and  turn  it  over  to  the  other  heirs  ?  " 

"  The  other  heirs  certainly  think  so.  They  have 
retained  the  best  counsel  to  be  had,  and  have  been 
working  on  the  woman  for  a  year  to  make  her  tell 
what  she  knew.  Of  course,"  he  admitted,  "  if  it  were 
shown  that  you  had  a  mole  on  your  back,  the 
woman's  testimony  would  be  valueless  ;  but  if,  on  the 

contrary,  it  turned  out  that  you  had  no  mole  in  that 

287 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

position,  I  am  not  sure  that  there  would  be  any 
chance  for  us  at  all.  Of  course,  we  have  the  money, 
and  could  take  it  on  from  court  to  court  for  a  long 
while." 

"  I  see,"  said  Morgan.  He  felt  that  he  understood 
the  whole  situation. 

There  was  a  pointed  silence.  Cogshell  gazed  at 
him  curiously. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  last,  with  ill  concealed  impa- 
tience, "  I  think  I  have  said  everything.  Are  there 
more  questions  you  wish  to  ask?  " 

Morgan  returned  his  gaze  pleasantly. 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  he  said,  quite  contented. 

"  Then  I  shall  ask  one, — Have  you  a  mole  on  your 
back  between  your  shoulder  blades  ?  " 

"  Why,"  began  the  young  man,  in  no  hurry, — but 
just  then  the  telephone  bell  rang  again.  Cogshell 
answered  it.  His  companion  let  his  eyes  fall  idly  on 
the  paper.  When  the  former  turned  back  to  him,  he 
found  him  staring  round-eyed  at  the  newspaper. 
His  face  was  pale.  The  lawyer  could  hear  him 
breathing. 

"What  is  the  matter?  Glass  of  water?  Here, 
take  it." 

Cogshell  drew  it  from  the  cooler  behind  his  chair. 

288 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Morgan  stood  up.  The  blood  rushed  back  to  his 
face.  He  pulled  himself  together  with  an  effort. 

"  I  will  see  you  in  a  day  or  two,"  he  said,  his  voice 
a  little  unsteady.  "  I  am  taking  the  train  now — train 
South." 

He  held  out  his  hand.  The  other  grasped  it,  and 
watched  him  leave  the  office,  without  another  word. 
As  soon  as  the  door  closed  behind  the  young  man 
he  dived  for  the  paper  and  looked  eagerly  for  the 
paragraph  the  former  had  been  reading.  There  was 
no  mistaking  which  one  it  was.  The  head-lines  were 
these : 

"BANK  CASHIER  COMMITS  SUICIDE 

Joseph  Rupert,  prominent  citizen  of 

Prince  Charles,    Virginia,  shoots 

himself.     Believed   to   have 

been  caught  in  slump 

on  Pacific  Steel" 

Mr.  Cogshell  read  no  more. 

"  But  why,"  he  said,  "  should  that  take  Morgan 
Holt  back  to  Prince  Charles  ?  " 


289 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

AT  the  door  of  Mr.  Cogshell's  outer  office  a  man, 
evidently  a  newspaper  reporter,  accosted  Mor- 
gan. He  had  been  waiting  for  an  hour. 

"  Mr.  Holt,"  he  said,  with  deference,  "  we  have  in- 
formation that  you  are  not  the  rightful  heir  of  the 
Holt  millions.  Have  you  a  statement  to  make  ?  " 

The  young  man  gazed  over  the  reporter's  shoulder. 
He  scarcely  heard  what  the  other  said. 

"  See  me  in  the  morning,"  he  replied,  vaguely,  and 
left  the  office. 

The  reporter  opened  his  eyes  significantly,  and 
made  a  note  in  a  small  note-book.  In  the  afternoon 
issue  of  his  paper  appeared  the  words, — "seemed 
greatly  agitated,  and  would  not  deny  the  rumor." 
This,  to  the  reading  public,  is  the  same  as  a  positive 
confirmation  of  the  news,  and  by  nightfall  the  city 
was  morally  certain  that  Morgan  Holt  was  not  Mor- 
gan Holt. 

Trains  are  slow,  creeping  things.  It  is  a  long  way 
at  best  from  New  York  to  Prince  Charles ;  but  now 

it  seemed  to  Morgan  Holt  that  he  was  spending  his 

290 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

life  on  the  way.  The  morning  wore  slowly  on. 
Endless  fields,  houses,  barns  and  bridges  passed  by. 
Noon  came.  The  train  plodded  on.  He  wished  to 
be  there  immediately,  yet  he  did  not  know  what  he 
expected  to  do  when  he  got  there.  He  only  knew 
that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  stay  away. 

He  wondered  how  she  was  standing  it.  She  had 
had  no  pleasure  in  her  married  life  with  her  husband, 
and  he  had  died  disgracing  her.  His  financial  deal- 
ings were  not  acts  of  hers.  She  had  scarcely  even  a 
knowledge  of  them.  He  had  killed  himself  to  escape 
the  dishonor  that  would  result  from  them  and,  in  do- 
ing so,  had  lifted  the  burden  of  dishonor  for  himself 
to  place  it  on  her  innocent  shoulders.  He  had  lived 
a  coward,  and  died  the  same  way. 

Morgan  knew  that  wherever  she  went  now,  peo- 
ple would  refer  to  her  as  the  woman  whose  husband 
had  committed  suicide  to  escape  the  consequence  of 
his  debts.  Her  friends  would  think  of  it  whenever 
they  were  with  her.  She  would  carry  it  through  her 
life  hung  about  her  neck — his  albatross.  It  would  be 
her  burden,  her  punishment,  just  as  if  she  herself  had 
committed  the  crime. 

Now  was  the  time  for  her  friends  to  come  to  her, 

and   he  was  her  friend.     She  had  been  a  comfort 

291 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

and  a  reassurance  to  him  in  the  dreary  periods  of  his 
life  at  Prince  Charles.  He  wanted  to  be  with  her, 
therefore,  to  offer  his  sympathy,  to  be  what  balm  he 
could  to  her  in  the  trying  situation.  There  was 
nothing  he  could  say  ;  there  was  nothing  he  could 
do  ;  but  he  must  be  there. 

The  train  was  late.  As  the  afternoon  wore  on  it 
was  further  and  further  behind  its  schedule.  The 
stage  to  Prince  Charles  was  compelled  by  postal 
regulations  to  wait  until  quarter-past  four  for  the  mail. 
If  the  train  was  not  there  by  that  time,  the  stage 
went  on  without  it.  It  was  half-past  four  when  they 
arrived.  The  stage  had  gone.  He  did  not  hesitate, 
but  started  to  walk  the  ten  miles  to  Prince  Charles. 

At  seven  o'clock  he  came  to  the  gate  of  the 
Ruperts'  house.  A  light  burned  dimly  in  the  hall. 
He  crossed  the  lawn  with  rapid  steps  and  rang  the 
bell  peremptorily.  The  maid  said  Mrs.  Rupert  was 
seeing  no  one. 

"  Say  I  have  come  all  the  way  from  New  York  to 
see  her,"  he  explained. 

The  maid  disappeared.  He  did  not  sit  down,  but 
walked  up  and  down  in  the  hall. 

"  Mrs.  Rupert  is  at  dinner,"  said  the  maid,  return- 
ing. "  She  will  see  you  in  the  dining-room." 

292 


I  —  HOPED    YOU    WOULD    COME 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  followed  her.  Mrs.  Rupert,  looking  very  pale 
in  her  black  clothes,  rose  and  held  out  her  hand. 
She  said  nothing.  The  maid  disappeared  through 
the  swinging  pantry  door. 

"  I — hoped  you  would  come,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
tone. 

He  still  held  her  hand. 

"  It  seemed  as  if  I  should  never  get  here,"  he  re- 
turned. 

"  I  know.  When  the  stage  passed  and  you  were 
not  on  it,  I  thought  you  were  not  coming." 

She  sat  down  again  at  the  table. 

"You  have  not  had  dinner?  "  she  asked. 

"No." 

She  rang  for  the  maid. 

"  Set  a  place,  please,  for  Mr.  Holt." 

He  sat  at  the  table  with  her. 

"  I  missed  the  stage,"  he  remarked,  not  quite 
knowing  what  to  say  with  the  servant  in  the 
room. 

"  And  walked  ?  " 

"  All  the  way." 

The  maid  disappeared. 

"  It  was  so  like  you  to  come,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Of  course  I  never  thought  of  anything  else." 
293 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  If  you  only  knew"  she  said,  "  what  a  comfort  it 
is." 

"  You  have  had  a  hard  time  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  cried.  I  could  not  cry.  There  was 
just  a  weight  here."  She  put  her  hand  on  her  breast. 
"  I — I  have  been  ashamed.  I  have  felt  as  if  I  never 
could  go  out  again — to  face  the  people.  They  will 
pity  me." 

"  You  have  too  many  friends.  Your  friends  under- 
stand this  situation." 

"  I  have  never  felt  as  if  I  had  so  few  friends." 

"  Now  is  the  time,"  he  returned  gravely,  "  that 
you  have  the  most." 

She  smiled. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  the  fewest,  but  the  best." 

They  were  silent  for  a  long  while. 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  do?  "  he  asked  at  length. 

"No,  thank  you,  I  think  not.  My  father  and 
mother  are  coming  to-morrow.  They  will  arrange 
everything." 

They  rose  presently  from  the  table. 

"  I  feel — like  myself  again,"  she  said. 

He  noticed  a  little  color  in  her  cheeks. 

"  It  is  only  a  step,"  he  returned,  "  from  low  spirits 

to  contentment." 

294 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

She  thought  a  little  while,  apparently  oblivious  of 
him.  She  wanted  to  talk  about  something  else  than 
herself. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  observed  at  length,  "  who 
has  been  spoken  of  for  cashier  of  the  bank  ?  " 

He  was  interested. 

"  Tell  me  quickly." 

"  You,"  she  replied. 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  He  could  not  have 
been  more  staggered  if  he  had  been  struck.  She 
watched  his  face  eagerly. 

"  Well,"  she  cried,  "  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  I'm  surprised." 

"  My  father  said  you  would  not  consider  it" 

"  I  doubt  if  they  spoke  of  it  seriously." 

"  Would  you  consider  it  ?  " 

He  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead. 

"  No,"  he  returned,  "  I  shouldn't." 

She  nodded. 

"  I  thought  not.  When  do  you  return  to  New 
York?" 

"  To-morrow.  I  left  without  even  saying  where  I 
was  going." 

"  I  am  glad,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  to  have 

seen  you  even  for  so  short  a  time." 

295 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  had  risen  to  go.  A  certain  unexpected  reluc- 
tance to  leave  her  came  over  him.  He  wondered  at 
himself. 

"  I  wish  I  were  to  stay  longer,"  he  exclaimed. 

She  smiled. 

"  Well,  why  not  stay  here  all  the  time  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  thoughtfully. 

"  Many  reasons.  Life  in  theory  and  life  in  reality," 
he  said,  reflectively,  "  are  very  different  things.  If 
the  average  man  were  asked  whether  he  would  rather 
have  thirty  million  dollars  and  live  in  idleness  in  a 
big  city,  leading  an  uneasy,  irregular  and  unhealthy 
life,  or  have  six  thousand  a  year  and  live  a  comfort- 
able human  life  in  a  pleasant  town  like  this,  earning 
his  own  way,  he  would  take  the  latter  without  hesi- 
tation. But  give  him  the  thirty  millions  first  and  ask 
him  to  exchange  it  for  the  six  thousand  a  year,  the 
comfortable  life  and  the  pleasant  town  and  you 
couldn't  make  him  do  it  except  over  his  dead 
body." 

She  laughed. 

"  That's  your  case,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  It's  my  case  exactly.  I  hang  fast  to  the  fortune 
I  don't  want  and,  dog-in-the-manger  like,  keep  the 

other  heirs  who  want  it  from  having  it." 

296 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Could  you  make  six  thousand  a  year  here  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  No  doubt  of  it.  Three  thousand  as  cashier  of 
the  bank.  And  three  thousand  besides.  Your  hus- 
band could  have  done  it  if  he  had  not  spent  his  time 
on  bigger  game.  I  get  at  least  five  thousand  a  year 
now  from  the  cypress  operation,  which  will  continue 
for  several  years.  And  after  that  is  finished  I  shall 
always  have  the  water-power.  I  could  generate 
enough  electricity  to  light  this  whole  town  at  prac- 
tically no  expense." 

She  leaned  forward  excitedly. 

"  Why,"  she  cried,  eagerly,  "  you  would  be  the 
angel  the  town  has  been  looking  for  for  many  years." 

"  It  does  need  things,"  he  answered,  with  enthu- 
siasm. "  It  has  been  growing  steadily  in  population, 
but  its  institutions  have  stood  still." 

She  stood  up. 

"  Come  and  start  things,"  she  said,  smiling  her 
wonderful  smile. 

"  I  would  like  it  above  all  things,"  he  replied. 

He  noted  the  delicate,  evanescent  perfume  of  her  as 
she  stood  there.  She  was  charming  and  compelling. 

"Why  not  come,  then?"  she  went  on,  glancing  at 

him  through  her  partly  closed  eyes. 

297 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  paused  a  moment. 

"  You  do  not  quite  realize  the  golden  road  on 
which  I  tread.  In  America  the  possession  of  thirty 
millions  of  dollars  is  a  title  of  nobility.  It  proscribes 
the  man's  life.  He  must  marry  thus  and  so.  Aside 
from  the  stock  exchange,  it  is  not  good  form  for  him 
to  have  an  established  business.  He  is  to  have  no 
privacy.  The  press  and  the  public  follow  him  about 
from  place  to  place.  Unless  I  threw  the  money  in 
the  sea  I  should  not  return  to  Prince  Charles — and," 
he  added,  unexpectedly,  "  to  you." 

He  stopped,  surprised  at  what  he  had  said. 

"  As  to  the  latter,"  she  said  lightly,  but  with  eyes 
very  bright,  "  I  should  think  the  sacrifice  of  the 
money  would  be  worth  it." 

He  laughed  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  should  think  so  too,"  he  replied,  gravely. 

She  let  her  hand  rest  in  his  for  a  moment. 

"You  spoke  of  the  golden  road,"  she  said. 
"  Please  remember  that  the  golden  road  is  not  al- 
ways made  bright  by  money  and  by  pomp  and  cir- 
cumstance ;  and  perhaps  service  to  one's  fellow 
men,  such  as  you  could  render  here,  and  the  earning 
of  one's  own  way  in  the  world  might  make  a  road  to 

travel  more  golden  and  bright  than  any  other." 

298 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  looked  down  at  her  intently. 

"  I  may  perhaps  have  a  chance  to  find  out,"  he 
said,  presently.  "  My  title  to  the  fortune  has  been 
questioned." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  If  ever  there  comes  a  time,"  she  exclaimed  ear- 
nestly, "  when  it  may  seem  necessary  for  you  to  re- 
linquish your  claim  to  the  money,  do  it  willingly, 
and  I  think  you  will  be  happy." 

He  looked  at  her  once  again  as  she  stood  by  the 
red  glow  of  the  lamp  on  the  table.  The  rich  light 
fell  on  her  white  young  shoulders,  and  touched  them 
with  a  tint  that  matched  the  flush  on  her  cheek  and 
the  glorious  gold-red  of  her  hair. 

"  You  are  very  beautiful,"  he  observed,  in  a  mo- 
ment, as  if  that  had  been  the  subject  of  conversation. 

She  laughed  softly,  but  did  not  reply. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said. 

"  Good-night." 

At  the  door  he  turned  back. 

"  I  shall  remember,"  he  said  seriously,  "  what  you 
said — about  the  golden  road." 

"  Please." 

"  And  if  I  should  ever  have  to  give  up  my  money 

and  come  back  here,  I  shall  do  it  without  regret." 

299 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  You  are  a  wonderful  person,"  she  said. 

He  spent  the  night  at  the  Prince  Charles  Hotel. 
As  he  was  at  breakfast  in  the  morning,  two  directors 
of  the  bank,  having  heard  late  the  night  before  of 
his  presence  in  Prince  Charles,  came  to  offer  him  the 
position  as  cashier  of  the  bank.  After  he  had  heard 
their  mission,  he  thanked  them,  and  said  he  could  by 
no  means  accept  it. 

"The  care  of  my  father's  money,"  he  explained, 
"  will  take  all  of  my  time,  and  the  lady  I  am  to  marry 
does  not  care  to  live  anywhere  but  in  New  York." 

He  did  this  calmly,  and  with  no  sign  of  excitement. 
Neither  of  the  old  directors  could  have  known  that 
he  had  not  lain  down  the  night  before  until  nearly 
daybreak,  but  had  paced  the  floor,  walking  up  and 
down  in  the  little  space  between  the  cherry  bureau 
and  the  closet  door,  driving  himself,  unwillingly, 
into  the  conviction  that  he  must  put  the  position  in 
the  bank  out  of  his  mind.  His  duty  was  to  his  re- 
sponsibilities in  another  place — and  to  Madeleine. 


300 


CHAPTER  XXX 

WHEN  he  found  on  his  arrival  in  New  York 
that  the  newspapers  had  decided  that  he  was 
not  Morgan  Holt,  he  was  astonished.  He  bought 
ten  papers,  and  took  them  home  to  find  out  all 
about  it.  The  whole  story  was  printed.  Where 
they  got  the  details  nobody  knows,  unless  the  other 
heirs  had  considered  it  to  their  advantage  to  have  it 
made  public.  There  were  photographs  galore  re- 
produced— irrelevant  photographs — of  the  Holt 
house,  the  drawing-room  in  the  same,  the  birth- 
place of  Morgan's  father,  the  hospital  in  Philadel- 
phia where  he  was  born,  and  others  equally  sense- 
less. The  details  of  the  story  were  fairly  correct. 
By  afternoon  all  the  papers  agreed  that  Morgan 
Holt  was  not  Morgan  Holt. 

The  effect  of  this  on  his  friends  was  remarkable. 
Two  days  before  he  had  been  hailed  as  the  most 
important  social  figure  in  the  metropolis.  His  yes- 
terday's mail  had  been  piled  up  on  the  desk  in  his 
study.  To-day  there  was  scarcely  a  missive.  The 
world  was  curious,  but  few  of  them  dared  to  call  or 

301 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

telephone  to  discover  the  truth  of  the  rumor.  So 
the  telephone  was  silent.  Morgan  wondered  what 
Madeleine  was  thinking  about  it.  He  thought  she 
would  be  concerned,  and  decided  to  call  and  see  her 
early  in  the  evening,  before  she  went  out,  if  it  could 
be  arranged.  He  asked  the  butler  to  telephone  to 
her  house  and  see  if  that  arrangement  would  be  sat- 
isfactory, but  before  this  could  be  done,  Madeleine's 
father  came  to  see  Morgan. 

Morgan  was  astonished,  but  supposed  that  the  old 
gentleman  had  come  to  discuss  the  newspaper  re- 
ports. In  this  he  was  not  mistaken.  Mr.  Graham 
appeared  to  be  in  a  state  of  much  choler.  He  was 
standing  before  the  fireplace  in  the  library  when 
Morgan  entered. 

"  I  have  been  hunting  you  all  over  this  town  all 
day  yesterday  and  all  day  to-day,"  he  burst  out, 
blusteringly.  "  Lord  bless  my  soul,  I  went  in  every 
club  and  gentlemen's  bar  in  the  city  and,  hang  me  ! 
if  I  know  where  you  hid." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Morgan. 

"  I  will  stand  up,  sir,  until  I  have  had  some  expla- 
nation of  your  conduct." 

Morgan  dropped  into  a  chair. 

"  My  conduct  ?  "  he  asked. 

302 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  You  will  oblige  me,  sir,  by  not  adopting  a  debon- 
air manner  with  me.  You  understand  me  perfecly, 
I  believe." 

"  Now,"  said  Morgan,  "  we  will  have  a  statement 
from  you  as  to  what  conduct  you  mean,  and  what 
explanation  you  desire." 

"  What  conduct  I  mean !  and  what  explanation  I 
desire !  Do  I  hear  aright  ?  Is  it  possible  that  you 
do  not  know  what  the  papers  have  been  printing 
about  you  in  the  past  two  days  ?  And  can  you  be 
so  fatuous  as  to  suppose  no  explanation  could  possi- 
bly be  asked  for  your  mysterious  disappearance?" 

"To  whom  am  I  accountable  for  my  going  and 
coming?" 

Old  Hampton  Graham  shook  his  bony  finger  at 
the  young  man. 

"  To  the  lady,"  he  cried,  red  in  the  face,  "  to 
whom  you  are  affianced  to  be  married." 

"  I  grant  you.     But — to  her  father?" 

The  other  pounded  the  table. 

"  To  her  father ! " 

"  Don't  shout,"  said  Morgan. 

The  veins  stood  out  on  the  temples  of  Graham's 
face.  He  seemed  on  the  verge  of  apoplexy. 

"  I  will  not  be  dictated  to  !  I  will  not  be  called  to 
303 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

account  for  the  tones  of  my  voice !  Sir,  I  am  a 
gentleman ! " 

"There  are  servants  in  the  house,"  said  the  other, 
quietly.  "  It  is  well  not  to  talk  for  their  benefit." 

"  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  are  ashamed  of  the 
subject.  For  forty-eight  hours  Madeleine  and  her 
mother  and  I  have  been  on  tenter-hooks,  and  not 
one  word  from  you.  Not — one — word !  Never 
have  I  been  treated  so  before ! " 

"  You  are  referring  to  the  articles  to  the  effect  that 
I  am  not  really  Morgan  Holt." 

"  I  think  I  made  myself  perfectly  clear,"  observed 
the  other,  with  dignity.  "  It  is  not  apparent  to  me 
that  there  is  much  chance  for  confusion." 

"As  to  that,"  returned  Morgan,  "  I  left  the  city 
yesterday  morning,  and  did  not  see  the  papers  until 
my  return  this  evening." 

"  But  you  were  approached  by  a  reporter  before 
you  left,  and  did  not  deny  the  rumor  instantly" 

Morgan  laughed. 

"  Is  that  the  cause  of  all  this  excitement  ?" 

"  Well,  my  dear  young  sir,  where  there's  a  great 
deal  of  smoke  there's  bound  to  be  some  fire.  It 
seems  to  me  that  when  you  might  have  saved  us  all 
this  anxiety  by  telling  the  reporter  fellow  the  thing 

304 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

wasn't  true,  it  would  only  have  been  the  act,  sir,  of  a 
gentleman  to  do  so." 

"  You  talk  as  if  the  rumor  was  of  my  death, 
rather  than  the  mere  loss  of  my  money." 

Apoplexy  threatened  strongly  again.  Hampton 
Graham's  face  grew  pink. 

"  The  mere  loss  of  your  money  ! "  he  roared.  "  Do 
I  understand  that  you  actually  admit  it?  " 

"  I  wish  you'd  sit  down,"  Morgan  said,  impa- 
tiently. "  It  gets  you  so  excited  to  be  on  your  feet." 

"  I  insist,  sir,  on  an  answer." 

"  Did  Madeleine  send  you  ?  " 

The  other  glared  at  him. 

"  Madeleine  and  Mrs.  Graham  and  I  decided  that 
this  was  a  matter  for  me  to  take  up." 

The  young  man  looked  his  companion  squarely 
in  the  eyes.  His  jaw  was  set. 

"  And  will  you  kindly  tell  me,"  he  demanded, 
choosing  his  words,  "  why  this  question  becomes 
one  of  such  paramount  importance  ?  " 

The  other  was  arrested  by  the  spirit  in  which  this 
question  was  put. 

"  I  will,"  he  said,  bitingly.  "  No  man  shall  marry 
my  daughter  under  false  pretenses.  If  he  has  no 
money  he  is  not  to  pose  as  a  millionaire." 

305 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  That  is  to  say,  the  fact  of  whether  I  have  the 
money  or  not  will  make  a  difference  to  Madeleine." 

"  Make  a  difference,  man  !  Great  governor ! 
Have  you  taken  leave  of  your  senses  ?  Madeleine 
can't  marry  a  poor  man." 

"  And  she  wishes  you  to — to  adjust  this  matter  to 
suit  the  circumstances." 

"  That  is  her  desire.  That  is,  in  fact,  the  desire  of 
all  of  us." 

"  In  other  words,"  said  Morgan,  slowly,  "  if  this 
money  is  not  rightfully  mine,  Madeleine  wishes  to 
inform  me  that  I  need  not  consider  myself  engaged 
to  her." 

Mr.  Graham  coughed. 

"In  that  case,  you  will,  as  a  gentleman,  release 
her,  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"She  admits,  then,  that  she  is  marrying  me  for 
my  money,  rather  than  for  any  love  she  might 
bear  me." 

The  other  raised  his  shoulders. 

"  My  dear  young  sir,  that  is  a  very-delicate-sub- 
ject," he  said,  running  it  all  into  one  word.  "  You 
could  not  of  course  expect  Madeleine  to  choose  a 
man  who  could  not  support  her  properly  in  her  own 
class." 

306 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Suppose  I  should  say  that  I  am  not  the  rightful 
heir  to  the  Holt  millions  ?  " 

The  other  put  his  hand  up  to  his  chin. 

"  Then,  my  dear  sir,  I  should  say  we  had  come  to 
the  parting  of  the  ways."  He  put  his  fingers  in  his 
vest  pocket.  "  I  have  the  ring  you  gave  Madeleine 
here  in " 

Morgan  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  You  have  the  ring  I  gave  Madeleine  ?  " 

"  I  have,  indeed." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  after  all  I  have  done 
for  her,  after  the  year  I  spent  for  her  proving  I  was 
man  enough  to  marry  her,  the  sacrifices  I  agreed  to 
make  for  her  happiness,  she  sends  back  my  ring  by 
her  father  without  first  finding  out  whether  there  is 
any  truth  in  these  newspaper  reports  ?  " 

The  other  flushed. 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut,"  he  cried. 

Morgan  paced  up  and  down  the  room.  The  in- 
terference of  Madeleine's  father  in  the  affair,  and  her 
delegation  to  him  of  the  office  of  continuing  or 
breaking  the  engagement  (as  he  saw  fit)  put  the 
whole  transaction  on  a  purely  business  basis.  She 
was  thus  frankly  acknowledging  her  undivided  pur- 
pose of  giving  herself  to  him  for  value  to  be  received 

307 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

— in  money,  power  and  position.  If  he  could  not 
deliver  this,  she  would  save  herself  for  some  one 
who  could.  It  was  a  perfectly  plain,  equitable 
bargain.  If  he  cared  for  that  sort  of  marriage,  he 
could  not  do  better.  But  he  did  not  care  for  it.  It 
nauseated  him.  His  only  desire  was  to  escape  from 
it  and  from  the  girl — at  any  cost.  Now  was  the 
time  to  burn  his  bridges.  He  paused  before 
Graham. 

"  Give  me  the  ring,"  he  said. 

Graham  gave  him  the  ring. 

"  When  you  go  to  Madeleine,"  he  said,  excitedly, 
"  you  will  tell  her  that  I  will  never  inherit  the  Holt 
millions.  You  hear  me ;  I  will  never  inherit  the 
money."  The  other  winced  as  if  he  had  been 
struck.  "  This  ring  I  shall  keep  to  remind  me  of  the 
sort  of  wife  I  missed  marrying  by  the  merest  stroke 
of  Providence." 

"  There  is  no  need  of  all  this  excitement,"  the  old 
gentleman  exploded.  "  We  should  have  found  it 
out  sooner  or  later." 

"  Well,  you've  found  it  out  now." 

"  How  long,"  exclaimed  the  other,  testily,  "  have 
you  known  this  ?  " 

"  Not  long." 

308 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

There  was  a  silence. 

"  I  bid  you  good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  returned  Morgan. 

When  the  visitor  had  gone,  he  went  to  the  tele- 
phone. 

"  Mr.  Cogshell,"  he  said,  presently,  "  we  will  not 
contest  that  suit  against  the  other  heirs." 

"  What !  "  the  lawyer  shouted. 

"  No  use  dragging  the  thing  out.  I  cannot  show 
them  a  mole  on  my  back." 

"  You  have  no " 

"  It's  just  as  I  say.  The  thing  is  hopeless.  We 
will  let  them  have  the  money." 

He  hung  up  the  receiver,  and  stepped  out  into  the 
hall. 

"  Touring-car,  please,  Bronson,"  he  said.  "  I'm 
going  to  the  theatre." 


309 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE  next  morning  Morgan  awoke  in  the  mood 
of  a  man  who  has  burned  his  bridges  behind 
him.  Last  night  his  abhorrence  of  the  selfishness  of 
his  small  world,  his  disgust  at  the  unhumanity  of 
the  one  person  he  had  counted  on  to  be  human,  had 
so  incensed  him  that  he  had  taken  his  own  destiny 
in  his  hands.  Now,  viewing  the  situation  with  a 
calm  mind  he  felt  that  he  had  accomplished  some- 
thing valuable  by  this  sudden  act.  He  had  pulled 
himself  out  of  an  existence  that  every  day  had  grown 
more  and  more  repellent  to  him.  He  had  cast  loose 
from  a  girl  he  did  not  love  and  who  did  not,  and 
probably  never  had,  loved  him.  But  for  these  ad- 
vantageous things  he  had  paid  a  great  price.  In  a 
certain  way  he  did  not  mind  that.  The  life  he  pro- 
posed to  lead  did  not  absolutely  require  the  money 
he  had  given  up.  He  had  shown  himself  capable 
of  paying  his  own  way.  But  in  surrendering  the 
money  he  had  surrendered  power — power  for  good. 
That  was  a  serious  thing.  It  had  the  air  of  avoiding 

310 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

responsibility.  Yet,  he  reflected,  as  he  dressed,  if 
he  had  it  to  do  over  again  he  would  doubtless  do  it 
in  the  same  way. 

By  his  plate  at  the  breakfast  table  he  found  a  note 
from  Madeleine,  written  the  night  before,  after  her 
father  had  returned.  No  one  but  a  person  with 
Madeleine's  view  of  life  could  have  achieved  such  a 
composition.  Almost  on  the  spur  of  the  moment 
she  had  manufactured  a  sincerity  suitable  for  the  oc- 
casion. She  had  approached  the  subject  with  a 
flauntingly  apparent  innocence,  as  though  the  situa- 
tion had  been  one  thrust  upon  her  by  the  hand  of 
Providence.  She  preferred  to  treat  her  action  as  the 
automatic  consequence  of  his  losing  his  money.  She 
spoke  of  their  duty  to  themselves  and  of  their  ulti- 
mate happiness.  It  was  soft  and  gentle  in  its  tone, 
as  if  it  were  a  metaphorical  cool  hand  stretched  out 
to  touch  a  fevered  brow.  It  was  so  angelic  that  she 
doubtless  believed  in  her  own  unselfishness.  At  any 
rate  he  knew  that  she  felt  that  she  had  veneered  over 
a  rough  spot  until  it  was  smooth  and  shining,  and 
that  her  duty  in  the  matter  was  finished. 

He  tossed  the  letter  aside  as  if  in  so  doing  he  put 
her  entirely  beyond  his  horizon.  There  was  no  sign 
of  regret  in  that  gesture.  It  was  with  relief,  as  if  he 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

had  at  length  come  out  of  a  dark  cavern  into  the 
fresh,  bright  air. 

The  papers  were  still  full  of  him.  He  never  real- 
ized the  great  figure  a  rich  man  was  until  now.  So 
important  was  his  position,  solely  because  of  his 
riches,  that  the  casting  him  down  from  his  pedestal 
and  the  putting  up  another  in  his  place  became  a 
great  newspaper  story.  It  was  treated  with  all  the 
verbiage  that  would  have  been  appropriate  had  one 
of  the  more  important  angels  been  dragged  out  of 
heaven  and  set  permanently  outside  the  pearly  gates. 

Morgan  was  astonished  and  exceedingly  pleased 
at  one  thing.  It  seemed  that  the  five  heirs  to  the 
fortune  (in  case  he  were  adjudged  not  to  be  the 
rightful  recipient  of  it)  were  all  heart  and  soul  in- 
terested in  a  scheme  that  had  been  patented  and 
perfected  by  one  of  them — a  first  cousin  of  Morgan's 
named  Penrhyn  Holt — whom  he  had  not  seen  for 
many  years.  The  scheme  was  for  the  transmission 
of  electric  currents  of  high  voltage,  and  was  intended 
to  be  used  more  particularly  for  electrically  operated 
railroads.  Penrhyn  Holt  had  discovered  an  insula- 
tion for  the  third  rail,  which  became  a  conductor 
only  when  in  contact  with  a  certain  other  material. 

The  current  would  run  on  a  copper  core  inside  his 

312 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

protection,  and  when  the  insulation  was  touched  by 
a  shoe  made  of  a  certain  alloy  he  had  discovered, 
the  galvanic  action  produced  a  current  through 
them  both,  which  was  transmitted  to  the  motor  in 
the  locomotive. 

The  newspapers  gave  a  brief  and  some  what  - 
bored  explanation  of  the  invention,  hurrying  on  to 
what  was  considered  of  more  interest  to  the  public 
— the  fact  that  the  Holt  millions,  when  transferred 
from  Morgan  to  the  new  heirs,  would  be  used  for  the 
perfection  and  exploitation  of  the  discovery.  The 
accounts  added  that  the  invention  was  undoubtedly 
the  most  important  and  far-reaching  discovery  since 
the  invention  of  the  steam  locomotive ;  for  it  meant 
that  the  steam  locomotive  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 

This  woke  a  strong  feeling  of  satisfaction,  if  not  of 
positive  enthusiasm,  in  Morgan.  It  was  gratifying 
to  know  that  the  money  would  be  used  for  some- 
thing big  and  important.  But  he  had  barely  finished 
breakfast  when  an  event  happened  which  changed 
the  whole  face  of  the  situation. 

Bronson  stepped  into  the  library. 

"  Mr.  Penrhyn  Holt  to  see  you,  sir,"  he  said,  im- 
passively. 

Morgan  raised  his  eyebrows. 
313 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  "  I'll  see  him." 

Penrhyn  was  a  very  well-groomed  person  with 
a  closely-cropped  moustache.  There  was  little  to 
suggest  an  inventor  about  him,  except  the  slightly 
bulging  forehead  and  the  very  clear  steady  eyes. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Morgan,  after  they  had  exchanged 
formalities. 

The  other  sat  down. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said,  without  any  beating  about 
the  bush,  "  you  have  been  reading  the  newspapers." 

"  Most  of  them,"  replied  Morgan,  smiling  ;  "  there 
are  two  or  three  I  haven't  got  to  yet." 

Penrhyn,  whose  face  had  been  severe  and  im- 
mobile up  to  this  point,  broke  into  a  contagious 
laugh. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  he  returned.  "  I  have 
learned  more  about  my  family  in  the  last  week  than 
I  had  in  the  twenty-five  years  previous." 

Morgan  nodded. 

"  My  object  in  coming  here,"  went  on  Penrhyn, 
becoming  serious  again,  "  is  to  reassure  you." 

Morgan  looked  up. 

"  Reassure  me  ?  "  he  said,  blankly. 

"  The  nurse  we  have  been  counting  on  to  back  our 
claim  died  this  morning." 

314 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  made  the  statement  with  absolute  calm,  sitting 
motionless  in  the  chair,  in  the  same  position  he  had 
taken  when  he  had  first  sat  down.  His  cousin 
noticed  that  his  fingers,  resting  lightly  on  the  arm  of 
the  chair,  did  not  attempt  to  clasp  anything  or  to 
close,  or  to  make  any  nervous  movement.  He  looked 
at  Morgan  steadily. 

Morgan  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  cried,  excitedly,  walking  up  and 
down  the  room. 

He  stopped  before  Penrhyn. 

"  Had  you  no  affidavit  or  letter  or  written  state- 
ment ?  " 

"  None  of  those  things,"  returned  the  other.  "  We 
tried  to  get  her  to  write  it  out,  but  she  refused  to  do 
it." 

Morgan  went  over  to  the  wall  and  pressed  a  but- 
ton. 

"  Bronson,  call  Mr.  Cogshell  and  tell  him  to  come 
up  here  at  once,  if  he  can." 

"  I  think  he  is  in  the  house  now,  sir." 

In  an  instant  Mr.  Cogshell  puffed  into  the  room, 
his  smartly  brushed  whiskers  flowing  to  either  side 
of  his  chin  like  the  dividing  water  at  the  nose  of  a 
tugboat. 

315 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Great  heavens,  Morgan,"  he  cried,  exultingly, 
"  the  whole  case  is " 

He  suddenly  saw  Penrhyn  and  stopped.  Penrhyn 
rose. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said,  quietly.    "  The  whole  case  is  off." 

The  lawyer  nodded. 

"  I  think  you  are  right,  Mr.  Holt,"  he  agreed  ; 
"  the  case  is  off." 

They  all  sat  down.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing 
further  to  say.  There  was  a  long  pause. 

"  This,  then,  leaves  me  in  possession,"  observed 
Morgan. 

"  Just  as  before,"  assented  Cogshell. 

"  Precisely,  as  far  as  we  are  concerned,"  returned 
Penrhyn.  "  I  came  up  here  to  tell  you  about  it,"  he 
added,  "  because  it  seemed  only  fair,  since  no  contest 
was  to  be  made,  that  you  should  know  about  it  and 
have  your  mind  at  rest." 

There  was  another  silence. 

"  Is  it  true,"  asked  Morgan,  presently,  "  that 
you  have  perfected  this  new  insulating  discov- 
ery?" 

"  Yes." 

"  So  that  it  will  be  practical  ?  " 

"  I  believe  it  is  absolutely  so." 
316 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  My  father's  money  would  have  gone  into  this 
project." 

"  Most  of  it.  We  are  all  interested.  In  fact,  the 
money  of  all  the  other  Holts,  what  little  there  was, 
has  all  been  invested  in  this  invention." 

Morgan  studied  the  carpet  thoughtfully.  The  an- 
nouncement that  the  nurse  had  died  and  that  no  con- 
test of  the  will  would  therefore  be  made,  nullified  his 
renunciation  of  the  money  made  the  night  before. 
If  Cogshell  believed,  as  he  had  been  led  to,  that  there 
was  no  mole  on  Morgan's  back,  that  fact,  now  that 
there  was  no  testimony  to  be  brought  forward  con- 
cerning it,  lost  its  significance.  Nobody  else  was  now 
demanding  the  money.  It  was  his. 

He  could  not  deny  that  he  was  pleased.  In  think- 
ing over  what  he  had  done  the  night  before  he  had 
gradually  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would  have 
been  better  not  to  have  given  it  all  up,  but  rather  to 
have  had  some  of  it  still  left  under  his  control.  For 
in  the  little  town  of  Prince  Charles  there  was  great 
use  for  money.  There  were  many  things  he  could  do, 
things  he  wanted  to  do.  He  wanted  to  bring  the 
town  up  a  little  closer  to  the  present.  He  wanted  to 
make  available  to  them  and  to  their  children  a  few 
more  of  the  advantages  and  comforts  of  the  more 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

civilized  world.  If  they  had  shown  him  the  delights 
of  a  world  that  was  not  overcivilized,  he  wanted  to 
show  them  the  delights  of  a  world  that  was  civilized 
enough. 

At  the  same  time,  he  wished  to  cut  loose  his  bonds 
to  the  great  city.  He  wished  to  be  free  and  unat- 
tached and  uncelebrated.  The  world  at  that  moment 
believed  he  was  not  the  rightful  heir.  Why  correct 
that  impression  ?  It  left  him  free.  He  saw  a  means 
of  strengthening  the  impression,  and  at  the  same 
time  doing  his  first  really  good  turn  with  his  money. 

"  Penrhyn,"  he  demanded,  "  would  fifteen  millions 
help  you  to  any  extent  ?  " 

Penrhyn  removed  his  hands  from  the  arms  of  the 
chair  and  folded  them  in  his  lap.  Then  he  indulged 
in  his  wide,  companionable  smile. 

"  With  the  invention  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  It  would  be  like  a  gift  from  heaven,"  he  cried. 

Morgan  turned  to  Cogshell. 

"  I  should  prefer  not  to  correct  the  impression  in 
the  public  mind  that  I  am  losing  my  money.  I  am 
going  away,  and  I  want  them  to  forget  me, — as  they 
will  if  they  think  I  am  a  poor  man." 

The  lawyer  looked  puzzled. 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  My  idea  is,"  went  on  Morgan,  "  to  turn  over  to 
Penrhyn  and  the  other  heirs  here  all  the  shares  of 
Concord  and  Western  stock — amounting  to  fifteen 
millions.  That  will  enable  them  to  push  their  in- 
vention just  as  if  they  had  really  inherited  the 
money." 

One  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop  in  the  room. 
Cogshell,  sunk  down  in  his  chair,  eyed  Morgan 
strangely  from  under  his  bushy  brows.  Penrhyn 
looked  up  presently. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  he  said. 

"  I  mean  just  that.  Last  night  I  had  decided  to 
let  you  have  all  the  money,  just  so  I  could  cut  loose 
from  this  town  and  from — from — well,  from  every- 
thing. And  when  I  found  what  you  were  going  to 
use  the  money  for  it  seemed  as  if  I  had  done  a  good 
thing  in  spite  of  myself.  I  am  not  going  to  undo 
that  good  work  now.  Half  of  the  money  is  for  you 
to  use  on  your  discovery.  The  only  question  is 
now — do  you  want  it  ?  " 

Penrhyn  rose  in  a  bewildered  sort  of  way. 

"  Do  I  want  it  ?  Lord,  Morgan,  this  is  new  life  to 
me.  When  I  heard  the  news  this  morning  that  the 
nurse  had  passed  on,  I  had  no  heart  left.  I  feel  now 
as  if  the  sun  were  shining  again." 

319 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Morgan  put  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  The  sun  is  shining  for  both  of  us,  I  think,"  he 
said. 

"I  can't  take  this  as  a  gift,"  observed  Penrhyn 
after  a  while.  "  You'll  have  to  take  shares  of  stock 
for  it." 

"  I'll  take  anything.  I'll  take  postage  stamps  if 
you  say  so." 

"  We'll  have  to  make  a  new  issue  of  stock,"  the 
other  went  on,  "  and  sell  you  the  whole  thing.  I 
can't  promise  you  the  certificate  will  be  worth  more 
than  the  paper  it  is  written  on,  but  perhaps  in  fifteen 
years " 

Penrhyn  laughed  to  finish  the  sentence. 

"  In  fifteen  years,"  commented  Mr.  Cogshell,  "  I 
may  be  boasting  to  my  friends  that  I  saw  the  trans- 
action that  made  a  great  revolution  in  railroading 
possible." 

"  Can  it  be  given  out  that  this  affair  has  been  ad- 
justed out  of  court?"  Morgan  asked. 

"  Undoubtedly,"  replied  the  lawyer. 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  devoted  to  arranging 
everything.  It  was  growing  dark  when  Penrhyn  and 
Morgan  went  home  to  dinner.  A  little  later  Morgan 

called  out  to  Penrhyn  from  the  red-tiled  bath-room. 

320 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Come  in  here,"  he  said.  "  I  want  to  show  you 
something  bearing  on  the  nurse's  testimony." 

Morgan  was  standing  in  the  low  wide  tub,  vigor- 
ously manipulating  a  big  bath  sponge.  His  cousin 
looked  curiously  at  the  lithe,  muscular,  clear-skinned 
young  man.  But  the  thing  that  he  noted  was  a 
small  brown  spot  immediately  between  the  shoulders. 


321 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

A  WHOLE  month  had  passed  since  Morgan 
Holt  had  left  Prince  Charles.  On  the  third  or 
fourth  day  afterward,  the  community  had  been 
electrified  to  find  that  it  had  been  proven  that  he 
was  not  the  rightful  heir.  They  took  this,  in  the 
main,  as  a  personal  affront.  They  were  thoroughly 
agreed  that  there  must  have  been  some  conspiracy 
against  him.  Justice  had  miscarried  in  some  strange 
way. 

"  It's  shameful,"  Miss  Torrey  had  said  on  one  oc- 
casion, "  it's  outrageous,  I  say,  that  a  fine,  good  man 
like  Mr.  Morgan  should  be  deprived  of  his  money  by 
a  parcel  of  heirs  that  nobody  knows  anything  about. 
They  may  drink.  They  may  be  very  sinful  indeed. 
And  yet  the  law  recognizes  them  and  favors  them  in 
preference  to  Mr.  Morgan.  Is  that  justice  ?  No. 
If  there  was  any  justice  in  this  land,  they  would  give 
the  money  to  Mr.  Morgan  anyway — I  always  call 
him  Mr.  Morgan,"  she  went  on  in  nimble  parenthesis, 

"  because  that  is  how  I  knew  him  first,  and  first  im- 

322 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

pressions,  you  know,  are  always  lasting."  She 
heaved  a  sigh.  "  Every  one  was  perfectly  satisfied, 
/  say,  before  these  heirs  came  along  and  spoiled 
everything.  Nobody  else  wanted  him  deprived  of 
the  money.  Things  like  that  ought  to  be  put  to  a 
popular  vote.  And  I  know  he  would  get  every  vote 
in  Prince  Charles,  every  one." 

It  had  been  suggested  to  her  that  perhaps  this 
would  not  be  the  fairest  way  of  dealing  with  the 
problem,  as  people  might  be  prejudiced. 

"  I  don't  see  how  any  one  could  be  prejudiced  in 
such  a  plain  case,"  the  little  lady  affirmed,  stoutly. 
"  If  I,  a  mere  woman  not  versed  in  the  ways  of  the 
world  as  others  are,  can  see  who  is  in  the  right, 
without  prejudice,  I  don't  see  why  every  one  can- 
not." 

The  rest  of  the  community  had  agreed  with  the 
sentiment,  if  not  the  logic,  of  Miss  Torrey's  remarks. 

"  Beyond  a  shadow  of  a  doubt,"  Mr.  Peters  had 
explained  to  her,  peering  at  her  through  the  teller's 
wicket  at  the  bank,  "  some  dishonest  device  has  been 
brought  into  play.  It  is  inconceivable  to  me  that 
any  person  who  was  not  the  rightful  heir  should 
have  been  able  to  appear  so  for  twenty  odd  years 
— twenty-four  years,  to  be  exact.  My  knowledge  of 

323 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

the  world  leads  me  to  believe  that  such  a  thing 
would  be  impossible.  Ut-terly  impossible." 

This  statement  of  fact  had  warmed  Miss  Torrey's 
heart  toward  the  little  bank  cashier  as  it  never  had 
been  warmed  before. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  had  whispered  confidentially, 
in  return,  "  if  Mr.  Morgan  had  just  said  he  had  lived 
in  Prince  Charles  for  a  long  while,  I  believe  it  would 
have  done  some  good.  People  from  Prince  Charles 
have  a  reputation  for  honesty  everywhere.  If  he  had 
said  that,  all  that  would  have  been  necessary  would 
have  been  to  say  he  was  the  rightful  heir,  and  they 
would  have  believed  him." 

The  flaw  in  Miss  Torrey's  logic  here  was  that  the 
controversy  hinged  on  a  circumstance  that  took 
place  at  Morgan's  birth,  in  regard  to  which  period  of 
his  life  his  memory  might  be  conceded  to  be  some- 
what hazy.  The  picture  of  the  process  of  depriving 
the  young  man  of  his  property  was  a  vivid  one  in 
the  little  lady's  mind.  She  imagined  a  huge  court- 
room, bleak  and  bare,  where,  behind  a  tall  desk,  sat 
the  judge,  a  sort  of  apotheosis  of  Pontius  Pilate. 
Morgan  was  brought  in,  closely  guarded.  The 
proceedings  were  short.  The  accusers  stated  their 
case.  The  young  man  was  permitted  to  reply,  but 

324 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

no  one  believed  what  he  said.  The  judge,  who  had 
formed  his  opinion  beforehand,  decided  against  him. 
He  was  then  led  away — she  did  not  know  exactly 
why  he  was  led  away,  except  that  all  prisoners  are 
led  away — perhaps  to  be  locked  in  a  cell  until  he  had 
paid  over  every  cent  of  the  thirty  million  dollars, 
and  it  had  been  counted  and  found  correct. 

As  has  been  said,  a  whole  month  had  elapsed 
since  the  news  of  the  loss  of  his  fortune  had  been 
learned.  So  nimbly  had  Mr.  Cogshell  managed 
the  whole  affair  that  no  hint  of  the  real  settlement 
had  leaked  out.  Conversation  upon  the  subject  had 
simmered  down  somewhat.  There  seemed  to  be 
nothing  else  to  say  after  a  person  had  expressed  his 
confidence  in  Morgan  Holt,  his  disgust  with  the 
other  heirs,  and  the  hope  that  the  money  would  do 
them  no  good  as  long  as  they  lived.  The  belief 
that  Morgan  was  a  product  of  Prince  Charles  still 
endured,  however,  and  the  people  throughout  the 
community  expressed  the  strong  hope  that,  having 
been  ill  used  by  the  outside  world,  he  would  return 
to  them,  where  he  was  among  friends. 

This  feeling  found  encouragement  in  the  persistent 
rumor  that  the  young  "  ex-millionaire,"  as  the  town 
paper  had  once  experimentally  called  him,  had  as- 

325 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

cepted  the  position  as  cashier  to  succeed  Mr.  Rupert. 
This,  while  not  in  the  power  of  the  vox  populi  to  be- 
stow, was  considered  to  be  the  most  influential  and 
important  position  in  the  village.  Of  course,  the 
town  doctor  was  an  important  person  ;  but  the  bank 
cashier  should  be  a  man  versed  in  the  ways  of  the 
world.  He  must  be  capable  of  handling  noncha- 
lantly large  sums  of  money  ;  a  person  with  a  fine, 
polished  manner  like  Mr.  Rupert.  A  doctor  might 
be  a  shaggy,  rough,  brusque  man  who  sees  what  is 
the  matter  at  a  glance,  selects  the  proper  pills  almost 
without  looking,  gives  you  the  Latin  name  of  a 
disease  to  think  about,  and  is  on  his  way  again,  leav- 
ing a  wake  of  cures  behind  him.  But  a  bank  cashier 
is  a  suave  person.  He  must  conduct  his  bank  as  if 
it  were  a  drawing-room.  He  must  transact  business 
with  an  air  of  ceremony  and  good  breeding.  This 
is  necessary  in  order  to  inspire  confidence  in  the 
stability  of  the  bank.  Morgan  Holt  would  undoubt- 
edly be  just  such  an  individual. 

At  length,  the  directors  of  the  bank  announced 
that  the  young  man  had  in  truth  accepted  the  posi- 
tion, and  that  he  might  be  expected  to  return  to 
Prince  Charles  in  the  near  future.  Mr.  Peters  was 

the   medium   through   which   this   information  first 

326 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

reached  the  outside  world.  The  directors  told  him 
about  it  first,  and  in  response  to  his  excited  inquiry 
as  to  whether  he  could  tell  any  one  else,  had  an- 
swered in  the  affirmative.  Of  course,  the  little  man 
could  scarcely  wait  until  five  o'clock,  and  when  that 
hour  came,  he  emerged  from  the  building  in  a  high 
state  of  excitement.  He  stepped  over  to  the  post- 
office.  It  was  crowded  with  people  waiting  for  the 
arrival  of  the  stage  with  the  mail.  His  breast  swelled 
with  pride.  He  tried  to  be  unconcerned,  as  if  he 
were  in  the  habit  every  day  of  announcing  that  Mor- 
gan Holt  was  to  be  the  new  cashier  of  the  bank. 
John  Anderson  was  standing  by  the  desk  in  a  grace- 
ful attitude.  Mr.  Peters  walked  up  to  him  briskly. 

"  I  am  reliably  informed  that  there  is  to  be  a  new 
cashier  for  the  bank,"  he  said,  with  businesslike 
rapidity. 

Anderson  awoke  from  a  brown  study  and  looked 
about  him  to  see  from  which  direction  the  sound 
came. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  he  asked,  discovering  Mr.  Peters 
some  twelve  or  fourteen  inches  below  him. 

"  I  was  just  remarking,"  observed  the  little  man, 
with  proper  dignity,  "  that  there  is  to  be  a  new  cashier 
at  the  bank." 

327 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"Oh,  yes,"  returned  Anderson;  "well,  I  reckon 
that's  a  safe  statement." 

Anderson  did  not  seem  to  be  so  much  impressed 
as  Mr.  Peters  had  thought  he  would  be.  Perhaps  his 
statement  had  not  been  emphatic  enough. 

"  What  I  mean  is,"  he  continued,  the  fingers  of 
his  hands  pressed  tightly  together  before  him,  "  I 
have  positive  information  as  to  who  the  gentleman 
is." 

The  other  people  in  the  room  began  to  take  an  in- 
terest. 

"  What's  this,  Mr.  Peters  ?  "  some  one  asked. 

"  I  know  who  the  new  cashier  is." 

Mr.  Peters  stood  up  erectly,  his  eyes  sparkling 
with  triumph.  They  crowded  about  him.  It  was 
indeed  a  moment  of  great  joy. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  they  cried. 

He  gazed  about  him  prolonging  the  ecstasy  of 
the  moment. 

"  Morgan  Holt." 

There  was  a  chorus  of  questions  and  exclama- 
tions, but  just  at  that  moment  the  mail-stage  drove 
up  to  the  door  and  from  it  alighted  Morgan  Holt 
himself,  carrying  his  traveling  bag.  He  entered 
the  post-office  room.  They  instantly  surrounded  him, 

328 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

insisting  on  shaking  his  hand.  He  was  surprised 
and  flustered  at  this  unexpected  demonstration. 
They  congratulated  him  on  his  new  position,  and, 
if  they  did  not  sympathize  with  him  on  account  of 
his  having  lost  his  inheritance,  it  was  because  the 
importance  of  being  cashier  was  so  great  in  their 
minds  that  advances  above  that  were  rather  vague 
to  them.  They  felt  that  the  loss  of  the  one  was 
more  than  made  up  by  gaining  the  other. 
"Well,"  he  told  them,  "  I  have  come  to  stay." 
When  he  had  ascertained  that  there  was  no  mail 
for  him,  he  walked  out  on  the  street.  He  had  not 
expected  that  there  would  be  any  mail.  He  had 
asked  merely  for  the  pleasure  of  doing  it — just  as  he 
used  to.  He  walked  up  the  street  toward  Miss 
Torrey's.  People  recognized  him  and  stopped  to 
shake  hands  with  him. 

He  was  rilled  with  enthusiasm  for  the  town.  He 
looked  again  at  each  of  the  familiar  houses,  the  even- 
ing lights  burning,  the  bustle  apparent  in  the  upper 
rooms,  here  and  there,  where  children  were  being 
put  to  bed.  The  odor  of  pleasant  dinners  (suppers, 
they  called  them  in  Prince  Charles)  saluted  his  nos- 
trils. It  was  savory  and  homelike.  The  whole  town 
was  homelike.  The  mute  cast-iron  dogs  before  Dr. 

329 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

Torrey's  seemed  like  old  friends.  He  walked  into 
the  house,  as  he  always  did,  without  ringing. 

"  Aunt  Cordelia,"  he  cried,  addressing  her  in  the 
old  way,  "  I  have  come  to  this  town  to  stay." 

Miss  Torrey  was  flitting  about  the  table,  straight- 
ening a  knife  here  and  a  spoon  there,  smoothing  out 
imaginary  creases  in  the  cloth,  paralleling  the  nap- 
kin edges  with  the  edge  of  the  table  and,  in  various 
ways,  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  it.  She  stood 
stock  still  for  quite  half  a  minute  in  her  astonishment. 
Then  she  rushed  over  to  him  and,  hovering  about 
him  like  a  little  bird,  overwhelmed  him  with  ques- 
tions, answers,  conjectures,  and  various  disconnected 
conversation.  Presently  she  called  to  Dr.  Torrey  : 

"  Brother  James,"  she  said,  "  here  is  Mr.  Morgan. 
He  has  come  home  to  stay." 

Morgan  smiled.  That  was  it.  He  had  come  home 
to  stay. 


330 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

PRINCE  CHARLES  was  beginning  to  feel  some- 
what the  impetus  of  the  cypress  cutting. 
Schooners  stood  regularly  now  in  the  bay  and  were 
loaded  by  lighters.  The  lumber  company  was  build- 
ing a  pier  out  to  deep  water.  Engineers,  lumber- 
men, strange  business  men  frequented  the  town.  A 
fifty  foot  gasoline  launch  ran  three  times  a  week  to 
Norfolk  for  the  benefit  of  the  lumber  company.  Pas- 
sengers not  connected  with  the  cypress  operations 
were  also  taken  on  this  upon  payment  of  the  same 
fare  that  was  charged  by  the  side-wheeler.  It  made 
better  time  than  the  steamboat,  and  as  its  days  for 
running  alternated  with  the  latter,  it  was  now  possible 
to  go  to  Norfolk  any  day  in  the  week  except  Thurs- 
day. Not  that  that  was  of  any  real  advantage,  as 
people  in  Prince  Charles  wishing  to  go  to  Norfolk 
usually  made  up  their  minds  several  weeks  before- 
hand. But  it  lent  an  air  of  solid  prosperity  to  the 
town. 

Perkins  said  the  town  was  beginning  to  wake  up. 
331 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  tried  to  get  some  of  the  people  interested  in  the 
project  of  making  another  parallel  street  and  selling 
building  lots  on  it,  but  the  proposition  was  too  be- 
wildering. Prince  Charles  had  never  had  but  one 
street.  In  fact  that  was  the  salient  feature  of  the 
town.  It  was  the  way  you  recognized  it.  Put  an- 
other street  in  it,  and  would  it  be  Prince  Charles  ? 

"  Have  to  get  them  educated  up  to  that  idea," 
Perkins  said. 

"  There  is  a  boom  headed  right  straight  for  this 
town,"  he  told  Morgan  one  day,  "  and  if  the  town 
doesn't  dodge,  said  boom  is  certain  to  hit  it.  As 
soon  as  I  find  the  proper  thing,  I  am  going  to  bor- 
row money  from  your  bank,  buy  some  real  estate  and 
wait  for  it  to  go  up." 

"  This  bank,"  said  Morgan,  "  does  not  lend  money 
to  people  named  Perkins." 

"  That's  all  right,"  returned  Perkins,  easily,  "  I 
never  believe  what  you  say  anyway.  You  came  down 
here  and  said  you  hadn't  a  red  cent,  and  when  we 
took  your  word  for  it,  you  said,  oh,  no  !  that  wasn't 
true  ;  you  were  a  millionaire.  We  hadn't  any  more 
than  swallowed  that  one  when  you  gave  us  the  laugh 
and  said,  '  Fooled  you  again.  I  was  right  the  first 
time.'  " 

332 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"That  shows  how  convincing  I  am." 

He  had  entered  upon  the  duties  of  his  new  posi- 
tion almost  immediately.  It  seemed  that  he  was 
simply  taking  up  the  reins  where  he  had  left  off 
eight  months  before,  except  that  now  he  sat  in  the 
leather  swivel  chair  which  Mr.  Rupert  used  to 
occupy.  Things  had  changed  greatly  in  those  eight 
months.  The  town  was  alive  with  an  enthusiasm 
that  was  entirely  lacking  then.  Several  large  new 
accounts  had  come  into  the  bank  since  then.  The 
lumber  company  and  the  construction  company, 
which  was  building  the  new  pier,  had  accounts 
there,  and  drew  money  for  their  pay-rolls  every  week. 
Two  people  came  into  the  bank  now  where  one  had 
come  before.  Morgan  noted  that  the  country  was 
beginning  to  shake  off  its  listlessness  somewhat. 
Although  he  had  liked  the  town  very  well  as  it  was, 
he  realized  that  it  was  not  a  good  thing  for  it  to 
stand  still.  He  therefore  bought  stock  in  a  small 
company  which  proposed  to  run  an  automobile  bus 
from  Prince  Charles  to  the  railroad,  in  place  of  the 
old  mail-stage.  There  was  so  much  more  traffic  now 
than  formerly  that  the  stage  could  not  always  ac- 
commodate all  who  wished  to  use  it,  and  the  people 
who  did  use  it  grumbled  at  the  time  it  consumed. 

333 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

When  Mrs.  Rupert  found  out  that  he  had  done 
this,  she  stopped  him  on  the  street  one  day  and  half- 
seriously  remonstrated  with  him  for  it.  This  was 
practically  the  first  opportunity  he  had  had  to  speak 
to  her  since  his  return,  as  she  had  been  away  most  of 
the  time. 

"You  know  you  will  get  no  returns  from  that 
investment,"  she  said,  "  and  you  must  conserve  your 
resources." 

He  laughed. 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you,"  he  said. 

"  Is  it  interesting  1 "  she  exclaimed,  brightening. 

"  It  is  especially  interesting  because  you  are  the 
only  one  to  know." 

She  clapped  her  hands. 

"  The  only  one." 

"  Except  those  actually  concerned — the  actors  in 
the  play,  so  to  speak." 

She  looked  about  her. 

"  Tell  me  quick,"  she  whispered. 

He  had  walked  along  with  her  until  they  were 
alone  on  the  turnpike  that  led  to  her  house. 

"  The  gist  of  the  matter  is,"  he  began,  "  that  I 
managed  to  save  a  portion  of  my  former  fortune  for 
myself." 

334 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  How  nice.  Enough,  I  suppose,  to  buy  you  a 
new  suit  of  clothes." 

"  And  still  have  a  little  over,"  he  replied.  "  It 
amounts,  in  all,  to  fifteen  million  dollars." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  and  then  went 
over  and  sat  limply  down  upon  a  stone  by  the  road- 
side. He  started  to  speak,  but  she  held  up  her  hand. 
"  Tell  me  how  it  happened.'' 

Morgan  explained  the  whole  circumstance  to  her. 

"  And,"  she  said,  "  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
it?" 

"  That  is  just  what  I  wanted  to  consult  you  about." 

"  Of  course  you  did."  She  ticked  off  on  one 
finger.  "  First,"  she  said,  mischievously,  "  you  will 
buy  a  steam  yacht." 

"  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  exclaimed. 

She  laughed. 

"  A  sloop  then — a  big  boat  with  brass  fittings  and 
wicker  chairs  and  a  mahogany  cabin." 

"  No,  indeed." 

"  A  little  thirty-foot  catboat,  then." 

"  I  don't  mind  the  thirty-foot  catboat." 

She  ticked  off  on  her  second  finger,  with  an  air  of 
great  seriousness. 

"  Second.     A  big  sixty-horse  power  French  car." 
335 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Perhaps  later  I  may  have  a  car  of  a  milder 
nature.  But  nothing  so  flamboyant  as  that." 

She  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Fine,"  she  cried.  "  I  actually  believe  you  are 
coming  around  to  my  way  of  thinking." 

"  I  am  indeed,"  he  replied.  "  I  want  to  try  to 
make  that  fifteen  million  be  a  benefit  to  Prince 
Charles.  Not  now,  because  I  want  to  let  the  ex- 
citement over  my  loss  of  fortune  subside.  But  later 
I  am  going  to  attempt  a  few  things  for  the  public 
welfare.  I  realize  that  this  is  a  large  undertaking 
and  apt  to  do  harm  if  not  handled  exactly  right. 
But  I  feel  that  my  knowledge  of  people  and  con- 
ditions here  will  enable  me  to  do  things  so  as  to  be 
a  lasting  benefit." 

"  I  am  sure  you  can,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  My  ideas  on  the  subject  are  a  little  hazy.  I  have 
had  on  my  mind  the  possibility  of  furnishing  electric 
light  and  water  to  the  town.  I  could  build  the  plant 
and  lay  the  pipe  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  and  furnish 
the  water  and  current  at  cost." 

She  nodded. 

"  And  there  is  one  other  great  thing  needed  here," 
she  observed,  thoughtfully. 

336 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  eagerly. 

"  A  high  school.  You  will  notice  that  we  have  no 
young  people  in  Prince  Charles.  Our  children  go 
away  to  boarding-school  when  they  are  fourteen. 
And  when  they  come  back  from  college  they  are 
twenty-two.  And  sometimes  they  do  not  come 
back." 

"  That  is  the  sort  of  thing,"  Morgan  exclaimed, 
"  that  I  want  to  do." 

"  It  is  a  fine  work,"  she  cried,  excitedly.  "  But  we 
— please  excuse  me  for  dragging  myself  into  the 
scheme " 

"  That,"  he  replied,  "  is  the  pivotal  point  of  the 
scheme." 

She  laughed. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  we  must  be  cautious  and  spend 
the  money  only  when  we  are  sure  we  are  right. 
After  a  few  years  this  community  will  get  to  know 
you  have  saved  some  of  your  former  fortune,  but 
you  must  never  let  them  know  how  much.  They 
will  appreciate  it  more  if  they  think  that  what  you 
give  comes  from  a  small  capital.  We  must  always 
let  every  one  who  wants  to  subscribe  and  your  share 
must  never  be  made  public." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "and  in  that  way  this  fifteen 
337 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

millions  ought  to  be  a  fund  for  good  through  all  the 
rest  of  my  lifetime.  It  seems  now  as  if  I  have  found 
the  right  thing  to  do  with  the  money.  If  I  disburse 
fifteen  millions'  worth  of  happiness  during  my  life,  I 
feel  that  I  shall  have  made  the  best  possible  use  of 
the  fortune." 

"  And  perhaps,"  she  said,  with  her  adorable  smile, 
"  I  can  go  to  heaven  in  your  footsteps  by  virtue  of 
having  assisted  a  little  in  this  great  philanthropy." 

"  I  am  sure,"  he  said,  "  your  admission  has  been 
arranged  for  on  entirely  other  grounds." 

With  which  exchange  of  civilities  they  rose  from 
the  stone  and  walked  on  toward  her  home. 


338 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

MORGAN  found  great  interest  in  his  work  at 
the  bank.  There  were  many  things  to  learn, 
many  things  to  work  out,  and  many  things  to  revise 
to  suit  the  changed  conditions  of  the  community. 
Land  and  buildings  that  had  been  considered  previ- 
ously as  hopeless  risks  were  now  good  security.  He 
had  to  get  a  comprehensive  knowledge  of  the  new 
values,  for  he  was  expected  to  visit  and  make  reports 
as  to  the  advisability  of  taking  mortgages  on  various 
pieces  of  property,  Mr.  Rupert  had  directed  the 
policy  of  the  bank  in  these  matters  with  such  a  strong 
hand,  that  he  practically  decided  himself  who  should 
have  money  from  the  bank  and  who  should  not. 
This  had  been  the  greatest  source  of  his  power  and 
influence.  Morgan  had  little  ambition  to  dominate 
things  to  such  an  extent,  but  he  wanted  to  be  so  well 
posted  on  land  values  and  on  the  probability  of  ap- 
preciation or  depreciation  in  each  locality,  that  he 
could  make  a  decision  with  the  least  possible  chance 
of  error. 

Several  farmers  had  sold  their  land  to  rich  men 
339 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

from  the  north  who  wished  to  have  show  places  to 
come  to  on  occasion.  Mrs.  Rupert's  father  was  one 
of  these.  One  day,  as  an  indirect  result  of  this  trans- 
action, he  learned  from  Mrs.  Rupert  that  she  and  her 
mother  and  father  were  going-  to  Florida  to  spend 
the  winter.  This  was  a  blow  to  Morgan.  He  had 
never  been  able  to  consider  Prince  Charles  apart 
from  Mrs.  Rupert.  Mrs.  Rupert  was  a  part  of  the 
institutions  of  the  town.  He  went  with  her  to  the 
boat  the  morning  she  left.  And  when  the  clumsy 
steamer  paddled  out  into  the  stream,  with  her  trim 
figure  standing  in  the  stern,  he  felt  as  if  he  had  been 
marooned  on  a  desert  island.  He  stood  on  the  dock 
watching  the  boat  until  he  could  no  longer  distin- 
guish her  on  the  deck. 

After  that  he  lost  a  good  deal  of  his  customary 
buoyancy.  His  work  became  his  only  source  of  di- 
version. He  would  not  acknowledge  that  he  missed 
her.  He  fought  against  thinking  of  her,  but  in  spite 
of  that  he  did  think  of  her.  His  companions  (for  the 
young  men  were  living  with  him  as  before)  noticed 
his  abstraction,  and  put  it  down  to  dissatisfaction 
with  his  new  life.  Perkins  broached  the  subject  to 
him  one  day. 

"  Morgan,"  he  said,  without  any  unnecessary  beat- 

340 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

ing  about  the  bush,  "  I  think  I  get  you.  You're 
sorry  you  ever  came  back." 

The  other  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"  What  makes  you  say  that  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  You  act  the  part.  Now  own  up.  It  doesn't 
seem  so  fine,  does  it,  now  you  have  to  stay  here  all 
•  the  time  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  does,"  Morgan  asserted,  indignantly. 

"  So  you  have  an  idea,"  remarked  Perkins,  "  that 
my  diagnosis  about  your  being  homesick  for  New 
York  is  all  bunk." 

"  Looks  like  it.     I  guess  you'll  have  to  try  again." 

"  Something's  wrong,  anyway.  I  haven't  seen  any 
real  three-ply  cheerfulness  on  your  face  since  you 
came  back." 

"  That's  responsibility." 

"  Responsibility,  thunder.  You've  got  that  two- 
by-four  bank  running  like  an  eight-day  clock." 

Morgan  thought. 

"What  I  need,"  he  said,  "  is  exercise." 

"  All  right.  Exercise.  Help  yourself.  Plenty  of 
it  lying  around." 

"I  think  it  would  tune  me  up." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  agreed  the  other,  heartily,  "  give  you 
an  appetite." 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

So  Morgan  began  to  take  exercise.  He  walked  to 
and  from  the  bank.  He  took  long  walks  on  Sun- 
days. And  when  he  got  a  chance  he  cut  wood.  He 
developed  hard  muscles  and  a  voracious  appetite, 
but  the  old  enthusiasm  did  not  seem  to  come  back. 

"  You've  got  just  about  as  much  bounce  in  you 
as  a  last  year's  tennis  ball,"  Perkins  observed. 

"  I  know  what's  the  matter  with  him,"  cried  one 
of  the  other  men,  whose  name  was  Dedrick. 

"  Let's  have  it." 

"  He  doesn't  get  his  food  in  the  proper  propor- 
tions." 

"What's  that  idea?" 

"  I've  been  making  a  study  of  the  thing.  No  man 
can  be  well  unless  he  gets  in  his  food  thirty  per 
cent  fat,  ten  per  cent  protein,  and  sixty  per  cent 
carbohydrates." 

Perkins  fell  over  backward  on  the  sofa. 

"  There's  your  cure,  Morgan,"  he  cried.  "  That's 
it.  Why  didn't  we  think  of  it  before  ?  " 

"  You're  supposed  to  have  twenty-five  hundred 
food  units  every  day,"  went  on  Dedrick,  encouraged, 
"  seven  hundred  and  fifty  for  breakfast,  seven  hun- 
dred and  fifty  for " 

But  Morgan  rebelled 

342 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  Nobody  is  going  to  work  out  my  meals  by  log- 
arithms," he  asserted.  "  If  I  have  a  grouch,  it  will 
have  to  stay.  I'll  be  blest  if  I  know  how  I  contracted 
it.  But  no  diagrams  for  my  food,  please." 

"  Then  we  can't  help  you,"  asserted  Perkins. 

Morgan  laughed  and  quoted : 

"  '  They  answered  as  they  took  their  fees, 
There  is  no  cure  for  this  disease.'  " 

Spring  hurried  into  being.  Morgan  thought  he 
felt  signs  of  increasing  satisfaction  with  things  about 
him.  He  went  about  his  work  with  a  new  enthusiasm. 
The  blossoms  and  flowers  touched  some  hidden  spot, 
and  for  a  while  he  was  his  old  self.  But  the  exhilara- 
tion did  not  last  long.  Morgan  was  tired — physically 
and  mentally  tired.  He  had  mistaken  his  work  for 
recreation  and  occupation  all  in  one.  For  six  months 
he  had  spent  on  an  average  of  ten  or  twelve  hours 
daily  on  business  connected  with  the  bank.  He  was 
thinner  than  usual.  Dark  circles  were  under  his 
eyes.  And  one  day  after  a  journey  in  the  rain  to  a 
farm  some  miles  distant,  a  tramp  over  the  muddy 
farm,  and  a  drive  back  in  wet  clothes,  he  found 
himself  unable  to  get  up  in  the  morning. 

They  sent  for  Dr.  Torrey.  Dr.  Torrey  said  it 
343 


was  merely  a  bad  cold,  but  cautioned  the  other 
men  in  the  house  that  the  patient's  vitality  was  very 
low  and  he  should  be  watched  carefully  and  not  be 
allowed  to  get  out  of  his  bed.  Morgan  had  no  desire 
to  get  out  of  bed.  He  grew  worse  instead  of  better. 
His  temperature  went  up  and  stayed  up.  The  men 
in  the  house,  who  were  busy  all  day  and  hopelessly 
at  a  loss  to  aid  him  at  night,  sent  for  Miss  Torrey  to 
come.  She  took  up  her  abode  without  hesitation  in 
the  house  and  sat  up  countless  hours  with  him,  try- 
ing to  carry  out  her  brother's  instructions  and  relig- 
iously making  the  chart  of  his  fever  and  pulse,  put- 
ting each  figure  down  with  careful  exactitude,  as  if 
the  life  of  the  man  depended  on  the  precision  of  the 
characters  on  the  chart. 

Morgan  was  out  of  his  head.  He  conversed  wildly, 
with  imaginary  persons.  Sometimes  he  would  sit 
bolt  upright  in  his  bed  looking  about  him  with  un- 
seeing eyes.  He  spoke  of  people  and  things,  and 
Miss  Torrey  listened,  wondering,  until  one  day  he 
said  a  name.  Thereupon  she  sat  down  by  his  bed- 
side and,  in  a  painstaking  hand  with  old-fashioned 
curls  and  flourishes,  wrote  a  long,  rambling  letter — 
as  rambling  almost  as  Morgan's  fever-talk — but  it 
had  one  idea  in  it  and  that  could  not  be  missed. 

344 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

On  the  fifth  day  from  that  time,  Dr.  Torrey  said 
the  crisis  would  come.  The  two  men  did  not  go  to 
work  at  all  that  day,  and  Perkins  came  up  from  Nor- 
folk to  "  lend  a  hand "  in  case  he  was  needed. 
When  he  arrived,  the  fever  was  all  gone,  and  Mor- 
gan, pale  and  weak,  lay  on  the  bed  peacefully  sleep- 
ing. The  three  men,  feeling  their  uselessness  in  that 
room,  went  out  to  their  work,  although  they  accom- 
plished little  that  day.  Miss  Torrey,  tired  and  hag- 
gard from  loss  of  sleep,  turned  over  her  duties  at  last 
to  some  one  else  and  left  the  sick  room.  So  it  hap- 
pened when  Morgan  awoke  some  hours  later,  con- 
scious for  the  first  time  in  nearly  two  weeks,  the  only 
person  he  found  in  the  room  was  Mrs.  Rupert 

From  that  time  on  he  improved  rapidly.  When 
the  middle  of  May  came,  he  was  sitting  out  on  the 
lawn  in  a  rolling  chair.  The  color  was  beginning  to 
come  back  to  his  cheeks.  The  robins  and  the  red- 
headed wood-peckers  and  the  shrill-voiced  blue  jays, 
gathering  about  him  in  the  trees,  made  him  very 
glad  indeed  to  be  alive. 

"  This  little  Perkins  man  tells  me,"  said  Mrs.  Ru- 
pert one  day,  "  that  you  have  been  in  low  spirits  since 
you  came  back." 

"  Perkins  has  always  insisted  that  I  have  been. 

345 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

And,"  he  admitted,  "  there  have  been  times  when  I 
have  thought  so  myself." 

She  smiled. 

"  And  what  was  the  trouble  ?  " 

"  Don't  know  at  all.     What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Why,"  she  told  him,  with  the  calm  air  of  a  per- 
son from  whom  nothing  is  concealed,  "  I  know." 

"  You  know  !  " 

He  had  had  a  dawning  feeling  of  late  that  he  him- 
self knew,  but  it  was  a  vague  feeling.  She  did  not  tell 
him  the  real  reason. 

"  What  you  need,"  she  said,  "  is  something  to  oc- 
cupy your  mind — something  besides  the  bank." 

This  sounded  very  sensible. 

"  I  wonder  what  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,"  she  prescribed,  struck  with  a  sudden  idea, 
"  why  not  remodel  your  house  ?  That  would  give 
you  something  personal  to  think  about." 

He  accepted  this  idea  with  enthusiasm,  mainly  be- 
cause she  suggested  it.  And,  as  she  had  pointed  out, 
it  gave  him  something  personal  to  think  about — 
something  very  personal  indeed,  for,  in  planning  the 
remodeling  of  the  house,  he  did  not  plan  it  alone. 


346 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

WHEN  the  first  of  September  came,  smoke 
curled  out  of  the  sturdy  chimney  of  the  new 
kitchen  wing.  The  whole  house  had  been  pointed 
with  wide,  white  mortar  joints,  making  it  look  fin- 
ished and  new.  The  woodwork  was  smart  with  new 
white  paint,  except  for  the  green  shutters  at  the  sec- 
ond story  windows.  The  shingle  roofs  were  stained 
a  silver-gray,  making  them  seem  like  a  somewhat 
trimmer  reproduction  of  the  old  shingles  that  had 
aged  in  the  weather  for  some  thirty  years. 

The  lawn  had  been  graded  up  to  the  house  so  that 
you  stepped  out  from  the  brick  paved  porch  to  the 
turf  on  the  same  level.  Wide,  high-ended  seats  were 
built  against  the  walls  under  the  porch. 

Within,  the  living  hall  was  beamed  and  wainscoted 
in  fumed  oak.  It  was  really  not  fumed  oak  at  all,  as 
it  appeared  to  be  the  custom  in  making  fumed  oak 
not  to  fume  it.  The  effect,  however,  was  the  same, 
unless  you  happened  to  be  curious  enough  to  cut 

347 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

into  the  woodwork  with  your  penknife,  which  it  is  to 
be  presumed  you  would  not  do  unless  you  were  a 
very  old  friend  of  the  family.  The  great  stone  faced 
fireplace  would  just  about  have  accommodated  a 
railroad  tie.  All  the  electric  lights  were  candle- 
shaped  bulbs,  set  in  sconces  on  the  walls  and  in  a 
chandelier  made  of  the  moose  antlers,  as  Morgan 
had  told  Mrs.  Rupert  he  wanted  it.  The  leather  up- 
holstered furniture  was  finished  to  match  the  wood- 
work of  the  room,  and  everything  was  direct  and 
simple  as  if  the  spot  had  been  intended  as  a  place  to 
live  in. 

Morgan  was  enthusiastic  about  the  room.  The 
first  days  after  it  was  finished  and  furnished,  he  used 
to  sit  down  in  a  comfortable  chair  and  look  at  it,  as 
he  might  have  looked  at  the  Grand  Canon  or  the 
Pyramids  of  Egypt  or  the  Taj  Mahal  or  any  other 
famous  scenic  wonder.  The  idea  that  this  was  his 
own  place  and  that  it  satisfied  him  perfectly  filled 
him  with  a  pleasant  sense  of  contentment — a  homely 
contentment  to  be  sure,  but  one  that  was  very  deep 
within  him. 

"  The  dining-room,"  said  Mrs.  Rupert,  "  is  better." 

This  was  a  natural  feeling  on  her  part,  as  that 

apartment,  as  well  as  the  kitchen,  had  been  her  own 

348 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

particular  concern.  The  architect  had  been  discreet 
enough  not  to  seem  to  consider  it  as  anything  else 
than  natural  that  she  should  take  a  neighborly  in- 
terest in  the  proposed  improvements,  and  that,  being 
a  woman,  she  should  naturally  know  more  about  din- 
ing-rooms and  pantries,  and  kitchens,  and  closets, 
and  places  to  put  dust-cloths,  and  the  kind  of  door- 
knobs that  are  easiest  to  clean,  and  all  the  important 
things  about  a  house.  Mrs.  Rupert  had  installed 
every  possible  improvement  in  the  service  end  of  the 
house.  By  a  circulating  system  you  could  have  hot 
water  the  instant  you  turned  on  the  faucet.  A  ther- 
mostat regulated  the  drafts  of  the  range  and  kept 
the  oven  at  an  even  temperature.  Ashes  were 
dropped  through  the  floor  into  the  proper  place  in 
the  basement.  Coal  was  brought  up  by  means  of  a 
receptacle  operated  by  electricity,  which  filled  itself 
with  coal  and  brought  it  up  to  the  kitchen. 

"  Of  course,"  Morgan  observed,  "  these  things  are 
very  interesting  and  entertaining,  but  I  doubt  if  I 
shall  get  much  satisfaction  out  of  them." 

Mrs.  Rupert  sighed. 

"  Of  course  not,"  she  returned  resignedly.  "  It 
makes  my  heart  ache  to  think  of  turning  over  all 
this  to  you.  A  wood  cook-stove  and  a  pump  on  the 

349 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

back  porch  are  all  that  are  necessary  for  you  and  the 
man  you  will  have  to  take  charge  of  your  kitchen." 

"  The  trouble  with  me  is,"  said  Morgan,  "  that  I 
need  a  woman  to  supervise  things." 

Mrs.  Rupert  nodded  energetically. 

"  Haven't  you  a  cousin  or  an  aunt  of  the  proper 
age,"  she  asked  gravely,  "  to  undertake  it  ?  " 

"  The  proper  age.     Is  there  a  necessary  age  ?  " 

"  A  person,  in  order  to  keep  house,  should  be  ad- 
vanced in  years.  It  requires  experience." 

"  How  old  should  you  say  ?     Over  twenty  ?  " 

"  Over  twenty  ! "  Mrs.  Rupert  smiled.  "  Con- 
siderably. She  should  be  barely  able  to  recall  the 
day  she  was  twenty." 

"  That  is  worse  than  I  had  thought,"  observed 
Morgan. 

"  Well,  sir,  what  is  your  idea  of  it  ?  " 

He  thought  a  moment. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  after  consideration,  that  she 
should  be  less  than  thirty  " 

She  flouted  that  notion. 

"  Housekeepers,"  she  insisted,  "  should  be  old  and 
ugly  and  must  have  rheumatism." 

"  I  don't  propose  to  pay  anything  extra  for 
rheumatism." 

350 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

She  laughed. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  desire  to  select  your  house- 
keeper for  good  looks  and  gracefulness,  two 
attributes  absolutely  foreign  to  the  nature  of 
housekeepers." 

"Then,"  returned  the  young  man,  after  a  long 
pause,  "  I  am  of  the  opinion  it  is  not  a  housekeeper 
I  want." 

She  said  nothing. 

"  I  feel  that  what  I  need  is  some  pleasanter  sub- 
stitute." 

She  rose  and  began  to  adjust  the  white  curtains  at 
the  windows,  whose  length  and  draping  she  had 
been  trying  to  fix. 

"  Is  there  such  a  thing?"  she  asked,  incredulously. 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed.  And  not  a  new  invention, 
either." 

She  took  out  a  couple  of  pins  with  which  the  hem 
of  the  curtain  had  been  temporarily  fastened. 

"If  there  is  something  better,"  she  murmured, 
"  you  must  get  one." 

"  The  trouble  is,"  he  said  seriously,  "  I  don't  know 
whether  I  can  or  not." 

He  strode  across  the  room  and  put  his  hands  on  her 
shoulders.  The  fingers  that  were  now  putting  back 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

the  pins  stopped  their  work.  Her  body  was  still,  as 
if  his  touch  had  deprived  her  of  the  power  to  move. 

"  A  year  ago,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  I  gave  up 
my  life  in  New  York.  I  gave  it  up  because  I  wanted 
to  come  back  to  Prince  Charles.  I  thought  then 
that  was  the  only  reason.  But  I  have  found  out 
since  that  there  was  another  reason — a  wonderful, 
glorious  reason  that  I  scarcely  dare  to  speak  about 
for  fear  that " 

He  stopped  abruptly.  She  did  not  look  up,  but 
she  could  hear  his  breathing. 

"The  reason,"  he  said,  just  above  a  whisper,  "is 
that  I  love  you — love  you  like  the  air  I  breathe. 
When  you  came  back  in  the  spring,  I  found  that  it 
was  you  I  wanted,  that  all  the  sunshine  and  sweet- 
ness of  this  place  were  memories  of  you ;  that  my 
illness  had  not  been  brought  on  by  lack  of  vitality 
but  by  lack  of  you — Barbara  Rupert." 

There  was  an  absolute  silence  in  the  room.  She 
raised  her  eyes  slowly  until  they  were  level  with  his 
own.  She  put  both  her  hands  on  the  lapels  of  his 
coat. 

"  Morgan,"  she  breathed,  "  Morgan." 

That  was  all. 

But  his  arms  closed  about  her  and  held  her 
352 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

tightly  to  him.  For  a  long  while  neither  of  them 
said  a  word.  Then  her  eyes  filled  up  and  the  tears 
ran  down  her  cheeks. 

"  My  dear  child  1 " 

She  dabbed  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief. 

"  To  think  of  my  having  to  cry,"  she  exclaimed, 
"and  spoil  my  good  looks.  But  I  am  so  happy. 
And  I  thought  this  would  never  happen  for  us." 

In  the  far  distance  they  heard  the  toot  of  the  horn 
of  the  new  automobile  mail-stage. 

"  I  am  glad  the  old  stage  does  not  run  now,"  she 
said,  irrelevantly.  "  I  remember  one  evening  not 
quite  a  year  ago  when  the  stage  went  away  and  I 
thought  I  was  never  to  see  you  again." 

Her  mind  went  back  to  the  picture  of  the  white 
road  in  the  falling  dusk,  with  the  slow-moving  stage 
inching  along  upon  it  toward  the  black  pine  trees  in 
the  distance,  coming  inevitably  nearer  and  nearer, 
until  it — and  with  it  everything — was  blotted  out  be- 
hind them.  She  caught  his  hand  now. 

"  That  was  an  unhappy  time,"  she  cried,  "  for 
Barbara." 

He  was  silent  for  a  long  while. 

"  There  are  two  improvements,"  he  said,  "  over 
the  old  stage." 

353 


THE  MILLIONAIRE 

"  What  are  they  ? "  she  asked,  looking  up 
brightly. 

"  First,  it  runs  by  gasoline." 

She  nodded. 

"  And  secondly,"  he  said,  "  when  I  go  away  in  it 
now,  I  shall  not  be  compelled  to  go  without " 

She  caught  his  face  in  her  hands. 

"  If  you  are  about  to  mention  a  lady's  name,"  she 
cried,  adorably,  "  think  well.  And  be  sure  you  are 
right." 

He  paused,  but  not  to  think. 

"  Without,"  he  said,  audaciously,  "  Barbara  Holt." 

They  stood  for  a  long  while  by  the  open  window. 
The  yellow  evening  sun  fell  on  the  road  that  stretched 
away  from  them  down  to  the  shining  water.  And  it 
seemed  that  they  were  looking  down  a  golden  road 
that  stretched  pleasantly  before  them  into  the  rose- 
tinted  future — the  golden  road  of  love  and  usefulness 
and  happiness. 


354 


A     000125745     o 


